Everything Has Changed
by skygirl55
Summary: While investigating his latest case, Detective Richard "Castle" Rodgers crosses paths with NY Times reporter Kate Beckett and an unexpected partnership ensues.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I saw a bunch of people on Tumblr post how they wanted to see an AU Castle fic with Castle as the detective and Kate as the writer, so I thought about it and this idea popped into my head. It's kind of a hybrid of Castle and the Nikki Heat books, except reversed and with some of my own changes. **

**He's the detective; she's the writer. AU. 20 Chapters.**

* * *

**One**

Five a.m. in New York City. The sun had just begun to coat all the east-facing windows with glowing busts of orange. All the partying twenty-something's had barely fallen in to bed, and the hard working men and women of the Borough of Manhattan were beginning to arrive at work. Among them sanitation workers, delivery drivers and Detective Richard "Castle" Rodgers.

Even at that early hour, a rising heat could be felt off the pavement and palpable thickness hung in the air. A week earlier, July had plunged the city into an unrelenting heat wave of one hundred degree plus days, blazing sun, and no rain to speak of. Fortunately, the weather man predicted a break in the weather by the weekend, but that was still three days away. Until then, they were stuck with a heat index rising to a sultry one-oh-five.

As he approached the yellow police tape, the detective tucked one finger between his shirt collar and Adam's apple attempting to loosen the garment already clinging to his damp flesh. Being forced to dress in a shirt and tie every day by a C.O. who always wanted everyone to look professional was bad enough, but in the middle of summer? It was a total bitch. At least he'd been wise enough to pick up an iced coffee before hopping the subway uptown to the scene. Then again, in this heat the ice would be melted by the time he reached the body.

"'sup Castle," Detective Javier Esposito greeted him as he lifted the tape.

"Morning," he replied cheerfully, ducking under the barrier. "Dino here yet?" he asked, referring to his partner, Detective Sal Dennison, fondly referred to as "The Dinosaur" or "Dino" for short.

"Just rolled in, sweat stains and all," Esposito said, nodding towards a tight cluster of uniformed personnel.

Castle approached the cluster of five men, Dino plus two uniformed officers and two members of the CSI squad, and took a deep breath. He knew they were standing in front of the body and he wanted to make sure he had a good hold on his Egg McMuffin before he caught his first glimpse. Nearly ten years on the job—four of them as a detective—and he still had trouble getting used to blood and gore at early hours in the morning. "Sal," he greeted his partner with a nod (of course they never called him Dino to his face!).

Sal turned his thick neck in Castle's direction revealing the already dampening spots around the V of his collar; Castle suppressed a grimace. "Managed to drag yourself out of bed for this one, eh Ricky-boy?"

He forced a smile, loathing the way he was called "Ricky-boy" more with every usage. "It was a struggle, Sir, but I managed." Two years into their partnership and Castle was still loathing every minute of it, but his time of suffering was nearly over; The Dinosaur was slated to retire at the end of the year. "What've we got?"

"Jane Doe, mid- to late-twenties, deceased approximately four to six hours," Sal informed him.

"COD?"

He nodded towards the body. "Take a look for yourself."

Castle stepped around his partner and approached the sidewalk. Propped up against the wrought-iron gate in front of a modest brownstone was the young woman. Blonde, dressed in a green dress—the classy party-going kind, not the streetwalker kind—and matching heels. Though her face appeared pristine, a massive cut ran from one ear to the other under her jawline, coating her pale skin from the neck down in dried maroon liquid. "So…cause of death was exsanguination?"

"Looks that way," M.E. Lanie Parish replied from her position crouched beside the body. "I have to get her back to the lab to see if there are any other injuries or bruising, but she was definitely alive when her throat was cut. A wound like that," the doctor paused and shook her head, "she would have been dead in a minute, tops."

Castle approached the body so that he stood only a few inches away from the victim's feet. He crouched down and examined the details as he always did. Obvious injuries were one thing, but he looked deeper than that. What was in her hands? What was in her hair? How was the body positioned? All these questions led to the clues needed to solve these heinous crimes.

His eyes glazed across the sidewalk on either side of the body. Like every other street in the city, it was lined with bits of trash, foliage, and smashed substances. Despite this grime, a clear splatter pattern of red could be seen. "She was killed here," he concluded aloud, "but the killer posed the body propped up like this against the fence."

He stood, facing the direction of the spray, putting himself in the shoes of the victim. "The killer came at her from behind, slashing her throat, then turned her body to put her back against the fence." He turned toward the nearest CSI tech and said, "Make sure your guys check for any shoeprints tracking the blood splatter in a certain direction."

He walked to the other side of the body, where the M.E. had been crouching and reviewed the scene from that angle. The woman's arm was down at her side, wrist and hand resting on the sidewalk. When he examined them from this angle, he spotted something odd. "Dr. Parish? Can you please hold up her hands?"

The M.E. did as he asked as he stroked his chin. "Odd," he said.

"What?"

"Her fingernails," he said. The nails were all painted a dark color—black, possibly, or a deep purple—except for one. The middle finger of her right hand was naked, unpainted. He considered this for a moment. It was possible that if her nails were acrylic, the middle one had fallen off, but that scenario did not feel quite right to him. "I'm not expert, so perhaps you could tell me—are her nails fake?"

"Hmm," she said, lifting the hand up to examine it. "No, they look natural."

"And do the other nails have any chipping or missing polish?"

She examined both hands and concluded, "No, not really."

"Then why is her middle finger completely unpolished?"

"I don't know, Detective."

Castle rocked back on his heels as he thought. Curious, very curious. "Again, I'm no expert, but tell me Doctor. If you were going out for the evening, such as to a party or a gathering with friends, would a woman such as yourself go out with her nails in such a state?"

"Absolutely not," she concluded.

"Ricky-boy!" Sal called out. Castle groaned inwardly as he watched the rotund man approach, making great effort to step up the three inches it took to move from the blacktop to the concrete. "The body was found by that dog-walker over there and I-"

"Detective Dennison?" one of the uniformed officers said as he approached. "There is a reporter here being quite persistent about asking what's going on here. Would you like to speak to her?"

"A reporter, eh? You better handle this one, Ricky-boy," Sal said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Just remember-"

"Don't tell them too much—I know," he said, unsurprised that Dino, the known sexist, did not want to speak with a female reporter. Normally he jumped at the chance to be quoted in an article—assuming it was a quote that made him look good—but dealing with women was the exception for this.

"She's on the other side of the M.E. van; said her name was Beckett," the uniform said.

Castle nodded a thank you at the man and then stepped off the sidewalk. Dealing with reporters was not his favorite part of the job, but it had to be done and there was no escaping it. He tossed his now-empty coffee cup in to the nearest trashcan and wiped his damp hands off on his pants as he circled the M.E. van, staying inside the circle of caution tape.

As he came around the corner, he spotted a woman in a grey pantsuit, her chestnut hair twisted in to a bun at the nape of her neck. She faced away from him, presumably making sure she stayed clear of the patrol vehicle speeding away from the crime scene, lights and sirens blasting. "Excuse me," he called, "are you Ms. Beckett?"

At the sound of her name, she spun around and the moment he locked eyes with her, he froze, feeling as though he'd been shot directly through the heart. As she brushed a strand of bangs out of her eyes, he realized that she was without a doubt the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. Chocolate eyes, full skin, and sun-kissed skin peppered with freckles across her nose and cheeks; he was captivated.

"Yes, hello, my name is Kate Beckett; I'm from the _New York Times_ and I was wondering if I could ask some questions Detective…." She let her voice drop off, obviously as a lead-in for him to give his name as she held up her iPhone, recording ap already started.

"I-uh-I," he stammered for a moment, for some reason unable to respond to her implied question. When she arched her eyebrows curiously at him, he cleared his throat in an attempt to regain his composure. "Hi, sorry, hi I'm Detective Rick Rodgers, but everyone calls me Castle."

"Castle?" she echoed, extending her hand to his.

"Yeah, Castle. I—oh, you have very soft hands," he concluded as theirs joined together.

"Um," she said, yanking her hand back rather suddenly. "Thanks. So what can you tell me about the victim?"

"Well, not much. Jane Doe—no ID with the body—and she was killed around midnight."

"Was she shot?"

"No, her throat was slashed."

The reporter nodded, appreciating the way he did not pull punches as so many of the other cops did when speaking with her, a so-called delicate female. "Witnesses?"

"I'm sorry," he said, giving his usual fake press smile. "That's really all I can tell you at this time."

She gave him an annoyed look. "Well you didn't tell me much of anything."

"Right. And that's all I can tell you at this time," he said, maintaining his even voice the best he could. He nodded to her and turned away but she stopped him.

"Wait!" she called out. "Here's my card. If there's anything else you can tell me."

"Yeah," he said, snatching the card out of her hand and tucking it into the breast pocket of his shirt. "I'll be sure to call right away."

He strode away from her, not looking back, but wondering briefly why someone as pretty as her chose such a slimy profession. True, he had not had any negative experience with the press, but it was simply a fact of life: until the day when cats and dogs shared their kibble together, reporters and cops would never see eye to eye.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

After interviewing the flamboyant dog walker who, though still quite shaken, assured him that he saw "Nothing, Darling, absolutely nothing," upon discovering the body, Castle returned to his home base—the Twelfth Precinct—to compare notes with Detective Esposito and his partner, Detective Kevin Ryan.

He took a seat at his desk and pulled his notepad out of his breast pocket. Along with it came the reporter's business card, which he merely brushed to the edge of his desk as he logged on to his computer screen. He felt someone walk up behind him, but did not acknowledge the presence until he heard a distinct, "Dude! What are you doing with this?"

He glanced up to see Esposito pinching the business card between his thumb and index finger. "What?"

"This," he said, flipping the card around so Castle could read the name. "Kate Beckett."

"Yeah she was at the crime scene today. So?"

"Don't you know who she is, Bro?"

Castle signed and turned his chair to face his colleague. "Espo, man, how many times do I have to tell you? Its impossible to remember the list of all the women who have scorned you. There really needs to be an ap for that."

"Funny. Dude I'm serious!"

"What are you serious about?" Ryan asked as he approached.

"You know who this is right?" Esposito asked, holding the card up for his partner to read.

"Hmm…Beckett…Beckett…" Ryan repeated. "Rings a bell but…"

"Man its just 'cause you guys didn't work Narco like I did." Esposito said, tossing the card down with disgust. "You don't get it. Google Kate Beckett and Boston P.D. and you'll see she wrote an article that got a bunch of guys fired from the Narcotics division for selling the smack they confiscated during their busts."

"Oh I remember that now," Castle said. "That was her?" he said, his tone indicating he was impressed. Esposito made a noise of disgust.

"Dude," Ryan said, "they were dirty cops."

"Yeah but it's the way she did it. She made them all sound like they were bloodthirsty criminals, but the one guy? His kid was dying of cancer and he was just trying to pay for her medical bills."

"Doesn't make it right."

"But she-"

"Guys," Castle interrupted the often bickering mates. "Can we talk about this case for a moment please? We I.D. the vic yet?"

"Yeah, prints were in the system," Espo told him, gesturing towards their Murder Board on the side of the squad room. The whiteboard had what appeared to be the victim's DMV photo in the center of it with the name Bethany Landon written beneath. Above that photo was one of her at the crime scene.

"Bethany Landon, twenty-six. Taught kindergarten at a private school downtown. Principle called the police when she didn't show up for work today, said it was completely unlike her. We called the parents; they're on their way in now."

"Any idea what she was doing walking that street at midnight on a school night?" Castle asked.

"Not yet," Ryan said.

"We're hoping the parents can shed some light on that," Esposito told him.

"Oh good, you're all here," Sal said as he lumbered in to the squad room. "I'd like a briefing before the parents arrive." He pulled his worn desk chair out in to the center of the room before flopping into it with a groan. The chair sagged down on its post and, as the boys liked to say, let out a silent scream at the jarring weight it was forced to support.

Their briefing was short and to the point, just the way Castle liked them. Sal assigned the parental interview to himself since it combined his two favorite things: not leaving the office and facing the potential for glowing appreciation for his hard work on the case. Ryan and Esposito were to continue their research in to the victim's past as well as search the area for any security cameras (though being that it was a residential area that seemed unlikely). Castle was tasked with going to the school where the victim taught and speaking to her coworkers.

With the morning traffic rush mostly over, his commute to the school was not too unbearable. After going through the school's security checkpoint and leaving his weapon with the school's rent-a-cop (something he was not fond of) he met with the principal, assistant principal, and both of the other kindergarten teachers at the school. Each interview went more or less the same way.

From what her coworkers said, Bethany was an exemplary instructor. Her students loved her, her coworkers adored her and the administrators were thrilled to have her on board. They were all devastated at her abrupt passing and not one of them could think of a reason why someone would want to harm her. The trip was not a total waste, though. Kindergarten teacher Mary Warner, the woman whose classroom was beside Bethany's, informed him that Bethany had begun seeing a man a month or two earlier. All she knew about him was that he was divorced with a son about kindergarten age and that she talked about the beautiful brownstone he lived in. Naturally, Castle asked if the little boy went to that school, and Ms. Warner informed him she was sure he did not, because she had asked the same question.

On his way back to the precinct, Castle wondered about the victim's boyfriend and hoped that either Ryan and Esposito had uncovered his identity by their favorite helpful crime solving tool, Facebook, or if the parents had I.D.'d him to Dino. Assuming that the victim was walking to the boyfriend's house when she was killed, it seems unlikely that he was the one doing the killing (why kill her on the street you live on and then leave her for the police to find?) but they had to check him out just to be sure.

After he returned his borrowed squad car, he picked up the quintessential New York on the run lunch (a hotdog) and was only about twenty steps from the precinct when he heard, "Detective! Detective Rod—er Castle!" He spun on his heel, still knowing on his dog, to see the journalist from that morning hurrying up to him, waving her hand above her head, a manila envelope clasped in it.

He swallowed hard and asked, "Ms. Beckett?"

"Yes. Detective Castle I-"

"No, its just Castle," he corrected.

"O-okay. Castle, I was wondering if I could just have a moment of time with regards to the murder from this morning," she said, breathless as she skidded to a stop in front of him.

"Sorry, I have no further comment at this time." He popped the rest of the hotdog in his mouth, tossed the wrapper in to a nearby trashcan called out, "OH! Three pointer!" and turned to walk away. She scurried after him.

"But I think it may be connected to another case!"

"Another case?" he mumbled through his hot dog, glancing back over his shoulder.

She hurried around in front of him and popped open the flap on the envelope she had. "Yes, two other cases, actually. I was-"

"What cases?"

"Janice Thompson and Melody Timbers."

Not recognizing the names he asked, "When were they killed?"

"Two thousand three. Listen, I was-"

"Two thousand three! Ten years ago!" he exclaimed. "How in the-"

"If you would just let me show you!" she shouted in an attempt to silence him. When it worked, she pulled a sheet of paper out of the envelope she had. "Now, in this picture-"

"Hold on," he said, snatching the picture of Bethany Landon's crime scene from her. "How the hell did you get this? This wouldn't have been released to the press."

"That's not important, but if you look there," she pointed at the image of the victim's hand, "the nail polish is missing from the-"

"Right middle finger," he finished for her. "I noticed that too."

She gave him a satisfied smile before pulling 2 more papers from the envelope. "Now look at these. This one is Janice, she was killed in April of 2003, and the other is Melody, killed six weeks later."

Castle held the first picture in his left hand and the second in his right. Both pictures were a close up of the girl's arms. He saw immediately why the reporter was showing him the pictures. Janice, the first victim, wore no nail polish except on her right thumb, which was painted black. Similarly, Melody had one black index finger. Castle looked between the photos and then up at the reporter, who was studying him intently. "I think you'd better come with me."


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

"Wha-Are you kidding me? What in the hell is _she_ doing here?" Esposito questioned when Castle entered the squad room, journalist in tow.

"Down boy," Castle told him. "She's with me."

"What do you mean she's with you?" he asked loudly enough to draw the attention of several of the other detectives in the room.

"She brought me this," he said, holding up the three photos. The one of Bethany was on top.

"Crime scene photos? Seriously? I though you worked for the _Times_ not the _Ledger_," he said, glaring at her. "Where'd you get these? You take 'em yourself you little-"

"Hey!" Castle interrupted.

Kate folded her arms across her chest and glared at the accusing detective. "You know I don't have to reveal my sources to you, right?"

"Kids! Play nice or-"

"Ricky-boy, what's going on here?" Sal questioned from behind them.

Castle groaned. "Too late." He plastered a fake smile on his face and spun around. "Sal, I'd like you to meet Kate Beckett. Kate, Detective Sal Dennison."

Sal reached out his hand for the obligatory shake. "And who might you be?" he asked patronizingly.

"I'm with the _New York Times_," she told him.

Sal's head whipped in Castle's direction as the skin on his face began to boil red. "Reporter? You brought a reporter into this precinct?"

Castle raised up both his hands, palms facing out. "Hold on, Sir. Just…hear her out." Then, he looked at Kate with an encouraging smile. Normally, he did not give reporters theories and conjecture a second though, but if she was savvy enough to notice the same thing he did _and_ bring more to the table, he was willing to listen.

Kate took the three photos from his hand before addressing the cluster of detectives around her. "When I received this photo from an anonymous source this morning," she began with a pointed look at Esposito; he scoffed and turned away. "I noticed the missing nail polish on the victim's hand. Then I remembered two murders from oh-three with similar m.o.'s." She held up the pictures of the other two victims. "Janice Thompson and Melody Timbers both had their throats slashed."

"And look at their hands!" Castle finished.

"They each have one black fingernail—so?" Esposito asked.

"And then look at our victim," Castle said, pointing to the murder board behind them. "Look at her fingernails! It's more than just a coincidence. Ryan, can you please get all the information we have on the Thompson and Timbers murders? And-"

"Now hold on just one second there, Ricky-boy," Sal interrupted. "Before you go gallivanting off on another one of your wild theories let's just pull back on the reigns a little bit. These cases took place a decade apart. The odds of them being connected are astronomical. Now, I just spoke with-"

"But the fingernails! That's the connection!" Castle said, the tone of his voice rising with his excitement. He was met with befuddled stares from his colleagues and he let his shoulders drop. Turning to the reporter he said, "They don't get it."

"Apparently not," she said, folding her arms over her chest.

"Would you like the honors?" he asked, in part to make sure that their theories agreed, thus proving he was not just on another one of his crazy tangents.

"Victim one," she said, holding up the corresponding picture, "had her thumb painted black. Victim two, her index finger. And now, potential victim three, her middle finger."

"Uh, problem," Esposito said, raising his hand. "Her middle finger isn't painted at all."

"Right," Castle and Kate said in unison. "Assume for a second," Castle continued as he walked towards the murder board, "that this killer has a twisted calling card. He paints the victim's fingers black. But not all the fingers—one finger at a time. But then he got to victim three, but when he went to paint her finger, he realized he had a problem—she already wore black polish on all her fingers. So, in order to keep with his plan, he would have to remove polish from nine of her fingers, but maybe he didn't have time to do that—maybe he was rushed—so he did the next best thing. He took the polish _off._ Third finger, third victim." He was just about to take a dramatic bow to acknowledge yet another brilliant theory when he was interrupted by his partner.

"Now hold on just a minute there Rodgers. We have absolutely no proof that these victims are connected and, no, nail paint doesn't count! Before we waste any more time on this, we need to look at the real leads we have," Sal said. "As I was saying before: I was able to get the name of the vic's boyfriend from her parents. Edward Grey lives half a block from where the vic's body was found. He's a cardiologist with a private practice in the city; uniforms are bringing him in now and I'll be speaking with him when he arrives.

"Ryan, Esposito—why don't you see how the unis did with their canvass. I want to know if anyone on that street saw anything unusual last night. And, Rodgers-"

"Hold on there Sal," he said, dipping his hand in to his pocket to retrieve his phone. He thought he felt the vibration of a text message and when he saw he was right he proclaimed, "Ah ha! The medical examiner has something for me. I'd better go see what it is—it might be critical to the case!"

Sal sighed and hiked up his pants, taking a few steps in Castle's direction. "Very well, but hurry back. Oh, and Rodgers? If I so much as hear you say the phrase 'serial killer'…"

"Got it," he grinned. He took two steps away before turning back and looking at the reporter, who stood in the middle of the precinct looking like a freshmen on the first day of high school. "You wanna come?"

"W-with you?" she asked, her tone indicating great surprise.

"Um, yeah, but just to warn you we are going to the morgue. If bodies freak you out…"

"Don't worry, Castle," she said, walking past him towards the elevator, "I'm a big girl; I can handle it."

As they drove to the medical examiner's office, silence filled the car. Every time he looked over at her, he noticed all her attention was intently focused on her iPhone. Never one to enjoy silence, he finally said, "So, how'd you get that picture? The one of this morning's crime scene?"

She looked up at him with a slight smile. "If I didn't tell your partner, what makes you think I'll tell you, Detective?"

"First, Esposito isn't my partner; the fat old guy is. And second, because I'm more charming," he said before flashing a million dollar grin. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the screen in front of her. "Okay, okay, you don't have to tell me where you got it," he conceded, "but what about the finger nails?"

She sighed and dropped her phone to her lap. "I remembered the case because it struck me as odd, almost like a serial killer, except there were just those two victims' as far as I'm aware. As soon as I saw the picture from this morning I noticed the manicure and I just thought…well, as far as I'm concerned, there are no such things as coincidences."

"Agreed," he said, realizing even more that she must be a well-seasoned reporter.

At the M.E.'s he did his typical flirtatious smooth-over routine with the young woman seated behind the welcome desk. She giggled from his charms and allowed him to bring his guest with him without a second look. Kate rolled her eyes, but followed him dutifully.

"Lanie, Darling," he said as he pushed open both doors to her autopsy room, announcing his presence with his ever present dramatic flair. "The timing of your message was impeccable as always."

"Well you know how I'm here to serve you," she said from her position at the computer desk on one side of the room. She stood and turned to face him then stopped when she saw he wasn't alone.

"Ah," he said, stepping aside to reveal his guest. "Dr. Lanie Parish I'd like you to meet-"

"Kate Beckett, right?" Laine asked as she approached.

"Uh, yeah," Kate said with notable confusing, looking between the doctor and the detective.

"You two know each other?" Castle asked with surprise.

"I'm pretty sure we had high school chemistry together," Lanie said. "Tenth grade. Mr. Fisher. He lit his comb-over on fire with a Bunsen burner."

"Oh my gosh, yes!" Kate proclaimed with a laugh. "I'm sorry I don't…I don't remember you," she confessed. The name Lanie didn't even sound familiar to her, unusual as it was.

"That's probably because I had an afro, braces, was about seventy pounds overweight and I pretty much tried to be invisible," Lanie said before turning to Castle. "Kate was popular in high school."

"Really?" he said with a grin, turning to the reporter beside him.

"Well," she said, tucking a strand of her bangs behind her ear, revealing the rose color creeping in them as she did so. "I wouldn't say popular."

Castle turned back to Lanie who said in a tone just above a whisper, "She was popular."

After laughing to himself and mentally filing that knowledge away for later, Castle led the way over to the table where the victim was laid out. A sheet covered her body up to the collar bone leaving her head, neck, and gruesome wound exposed. When he glanced behind him, he noticed that Kate was staying a few feet back and her completion had paled slightly. Deciding it was best not to call attention to it, he turned back to Lanie. "So whadaya got?"

"Well, as we suspected, the victim died from exsanguination. The slice on her neck severed all arteries; she would have been dead by the time she hit the ground. There are no other signs of injury on the body. No defensive wounds on her hands. Nothing."

"Signs of sexual activity?" Castle asked. Lanie shook her head. "What about her right hand? Can we see that?"

"Ah yes," Lanie said, walking over to that side of the victim and pulling her hand from underneath the sheet. "This is interesting. You can see here that around the nail bed there are still remnants of the black polish, just like there would be if you'd just taken the polish off yourself."

"I'll take your word for it," Castle said, glancing back to the reporter who arched up on her tip-toes to see the hand, but did not step closer to the body. "Any chemical residue?"

"Labs aren't back quite yet, but I imagine we'll find nail polish remover residue, which unfortunately won't be unique enough to trace back to your killer."

"Hmm," he said, rubbing his chin as he considered this information. Turning to Kate he said, "Something doesn't add up here. I'm the killer and my creepy killer trait is painting the victims fingernail black so I carry with me a bottle of black nail polish which is what? This big?" he demonstrated a two inch gap between his index finger and thumb. "Easily fits in my pocket. But why would I come prepared with a bottle of nail polish remover too? It's too big to carry around."

"Maybe the killer was a woman," Kate ventured. "She had polish and remover in her purse."

"Unlikely," the M.E. said. "Given the angle of the wound the killer was definitely taller than the victim. With her heels on, Bethany was 5'11" making the killer over six foot tall."

"So, unless we're putting the entire New York Liberty team on the suspect list, a female killer seems doubtful."

"Right, and look at the wound," Lanie said, gesturing to the victim's neck. "Smooth and deep—this was made by a very sharp weapon and it took a great deal of strength."

"Plus," Castle said, turning back to Kate, "how many serial killers have ever been women?"

"Wait what?" Laine interrupted with astonishment. "Who said anything about a serial killer?"

"Well, he wasn't supposed to," Kate chimed in with a pointed look.

"One thing you should know about me," Castle told her. "I do a lot of things I'm not supposed to. Like bringing you to the morgue for instance."

"Back to the serial killer thing?" Lanie asked. Kate and Castle explained briefly to Lanie the two other victims from a decade prior, each with a single fingernail painted black. "Okay, interesting. I see where you're coming from—the polish thing is pretty unique. Do you want me to review the autopsies to see if the wounds seem consistent?"

"Can you do it quietly?" Castle asked.

She smiled. "I'm always quiet."

He smirked. "Not in my experience."

"Watch it Castle," Lanie said with a sharper edge. He held his hands up in defeat. "It may take me a few days, but I'll look in to it and I'll call you if I find anything."

* * *

**Author's Note: I noticed someone commented about the speed of my update. I have finished this entire story - it's 20 chapters - so I'll post a chapter a day (unless I forget!)**

**I forgot that readers on here aren't used to my posting style. It's been about 5 years since I posted fan fiction, and never on this site (in case anyone is curious-I wrote fan fiction for the show Alias)**

**Anyway, now you know :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

After leaving the M.E.'s office Kate and Castle parted ways, but not before she made him promise to call her with any updates. Back at the precinct, he found Dino was still in the interrogation room with the victim's boyfriend, so he asked Ryan and Esposito for an update.

"Well, the Dinosaur thinks he did it, but the guy's clean," Esposito said.

"He says he got home at seven, turned on the house alarm, and fell asleep waiting for Bethany to come over. We're waiting for the alarm company to confirm that the alarm was on that whole time, but until then Dino is interrogating him like he's the prime suspect."

"Of course he is," Castle said with a sigh, "because if the boyfriend did it, then we'll all be home for dinner. Did we find out where she was coming from? Why she was so dressed up, I mean?"

"Friend's birthday party," Ryan told him.

Castle's brow furrowed. "Who has a birthday party on a Tuesday night?"

"No idea, but we talked to the friend; she was pretty shaken up about it. She lives three blocks from the boyfriend which is presumably why Bethany was walking. Friend said Bethany left that party around eleven thirty, which is consistent with the TOD."

"Anyone see anything?" Castle asked.

"We're still trying to run down all the party guests, but so far nothing," Esposito told him. "What'd Lanie have for you?"

"Nothing too exciting. COD was the cut to her throat, which we knew. No other signs of injury so she didn't defend herself; he surprised her from behind," he said, purposely leaving out their little brainstorming session about the missing fingernail polish.

Esposito nodded then leaned in closer to Castle, lowering his voice. "And you'd better not let that reporter sniff around here anymore. Dino's been on a war path about that since you left."

Castle scoffed. "Since when do I care what Dino thinks?"

"You'll have to care what the Cap thinks if Dino tells him. Besides, she's bad news, Bro. Keep your distance," Esposito warned him before walking away.

Back at his desk, Castle could not help but wonder just what was so bad about Kate Beckett. Deciding he needed to read her report on the Boston P.D. for himself, he Googled her name to see what would come up. He was shocked to see that the first result was the link to the Pulitzer Prize website. Two years prior, her Boston P.D. article had won the Investigative Reporting award. "Wow," he said to himself, before clicking on the article.

Unlike Esposito, Castle gained more respect for Kate by reading her article. It was clear she was a thorough reporter interested in presenting the truth. He could see where Esposito was coming from since not all the cops were painted in the most favorable light, but, at the end of the day, they had committed crimes and there was nothing Castle hated more than someone who sullied their badge. Coming from a background in Narcotics, Esposito was merely over-sensitive. It was common knowledge that Narco division was the most highly scrutinized by both the public and I.A. simply due to the nature of what they were dealing with. Most of them were good men, but Castle fully supported the corrupt ones being brought to justice, no matter who was wielding the hammer.

Castle didn't hear from Lanie regarding their cold cases until Friday of that week. Since she was informed she needed to keep her review off the books, she would be looking at them over her weekend nightshift when no one else was around. He could meet her Monday morning at seven to review. With this information in hand, he texted the reporter and told her to meet him at the M.E.'s Monday at seven and to bring coffee—regular with two Splendas; none of that fancy shit.

As he approached the M.E. building that dreary morning he spotted her leaning against a light post, collar of her trench coat pulled up around her neck, two Styrofoam cups in hand. As predicted, the heat wave had broken over the weekend, bringing a dismal Monday morning drizzle. It wasn't enough to need an umbrella, just enough to be annoying and make traffic a bitch, which is why he'd chosen the subway.

"Good morning, Ms. Beckett," he greeted her. He took the cup she held out, thanked her, saluted her with it, and then took a long, much needed gulp.

"So," she said, grasping her own cup with two hands. "Why am I bringing you coffee?"

"Because I'm letting you in on this case," he said matter-of-factly.

Her jaw dropped. "I broke this case; I'm the one that brought it to you!"

"Yeah, but I'm letting you stay in," he said. Then, he walked over to the entrance and held the door open for her. She stomped past him with notable annoyance but said nothing.

Inside the autopsy room, Lanie was waiting with two open folders laid out on a vacant table. The first thing she asked was the status on Bethany's case. "We're nowhere, unfortunately. Boyfriend alibied out, not that he was ever a real suspect anyway. No witnesses. One of the people leaving the party at the same time as Bethany though she saw a man in a dark hat and black jacket or hoodie across the street, but she isn't sure and it was dark out so that's a dead end."

"Well then I think you might be glad to hear what I have to say," Lanie said. He raised his eyebrows, intrigued. "I think you two were on to something. I reviewed both cases from oh-three and there are certainly similarities. Both those victims were shorter than Bethany so the fact that their attacker was taller than each of them fits, but it doesn't really get us anywhere. All three wounds were most likely made from behind and from left to right, indicating that the killer is right handed."

"Could the same weapon have been used on all three girls?" the reporter asked.

"Its possible," Lanie said with a nod. "All three were definitely made with an incredibly sharp, non-serrated stainless steel blade, but that's as specific as I can tell you. If you bring me the weapon, I'd be able to tell you if it made these marks, but I'm afraid that's all I can give you at this time."

"So," Castle began, gazing down at the open autopsy reports. "In your professional opinion, is it possible that the same person killed all three of these women?"

"Yes, it is possible; however I must caution you there is nothing unique about these wounds. For instance, just last week I had a woman in here killed by her husband with a kitchen knife. Her wounds looked just like these."

"But the fingernails are unique," Kate said.

Castle nodded. "Yes, but it's still not enough. Anything come back on Bethany's middle finger?"

Lanie gave a defeated shrug. "The results were consistent with what I told you the last time – there was nail polish residue on her finger nail and the skin of that finger, but it's not unique enough to trace."

After thanking Lanie for her work, the duo headed back out on to the street and paused just outside the building's entrance. Castle looked down at the reporter curiously for a moment before asking, "If I ask you a question, will you answer it honestly?"

"I don't give anything for free, Detective," she replied. "I get to ask a question too."

"Deal," he agreed. "Ladies first."

She tossed her now empty coffee cup in to the trash, folded her arms across her chest and turned to face him. "Why did you invite me here today? Most cops won't even give me the time of day and, quite frankly, I didn't expect to hear from you again unless I was the one doing the pursuing."

Castle drained his coffee and disposed his cup in the trash as well. He looked at her for a minute and then turned his gaze back out on to the streets of New York. "I've got a knack for seeing the weird things. Which one of these is not like the other, if you will. Most people don't see them until I point them out, but you did. Plus you brought those other cases and I don't know if I ever would have found them if it wasn't for your help. For that alone you deserve an in, but," he paused to look back at her. "You're smart and I can tell you're a hard worker and you don't take shit from anyone. I like that."

She looked at him. Despite its cocky beginning, his speech had a good ending; he pegged her well. And cocky wasn't exactly the right term—confident was more accurate. He was good and he knew it and thus far she had no evidence to argue that point differently.

"My turn," he continued. "Why are you interested in this case? You want another Pulitzer?"

A knowing smile crossed her face as she dropped her hands to her trench coat pockets. He really did have her pegged. "One thing you should know about me," she began, "is that above all else I value finding the truth and exposing it no matter who or what is in the way. I feel that's something you might be able to appreciate."

"Indeed."

"Those two cases from oh-three are still unsolved. I'd like a chance to bring those girls some justice; bring their families closure. And, if I get an article out of it…" She smiled at him and shrugged. "That's just the icing."

He thought on that for a moment, and then nodded; it was definitely something he could live with. "So, Ms. Beckett-"

"Please," she interrupted, "call me Kate."

"Kate," he continued with a nod, "would you care to brainstorm with me?"

"About the case? Sure." She agreed with a smile.

"Excellent, follow me." He led the way down the street to the next intersection where they crossed and continued towards midtown. The drizzle had stopped but the day was still overcast with an unusually crisp temperature for it still being the middle of summer.

"Not that I'm complaining," Kate said as she walked along side of him, "but don't you have a partner to brainstorm with?"

Castle laughed loudly. "Brainstorm with him? Unless it was about dinner you wouldn't get very far." Noting her curious expression he continued. "No, I wouldn't brainstorm with him even if he was still around, which he's not. He was forced to take his retirement a bit early when he had a heart attack while bending over to pick up the donut he dropped on the ground."

Kate stopped walking. "You're kidding me."

"Not at all," he said, turning towards her with a smile.

"That's terrible!

"Actually, it was hilarious!" he insisted before continuing his walk. When he realized she wasn't following he stopped and turned. Noting her mildly horrified expression, he defended himself. "What? He didn't die. He's at home, resting comfortably…probably with a carton of KFC on his lap, so it's totally ok to laugh about it."

She arched her eyebrow suspiciously at him, but then continued to follow him for several more blocks until they arrived at their destination: a twenty-four hour arcade. "Are we…brainstorming here?"

"Yep," he grinned. He led the way inside and went directly to a machine that exchanged bills for coins. He put in a five and collected his quarters before turning to her. "Ladies choice."

"Um," she said, glancing around the dark space filled with intermittent flashing lights from games. At that hour of the morning, they were practically alone in the room. "You know, games aren't really my thing."

"Yeah, c'mon you gotta do something. How about something easy? Fruit Ninja?"

Knowing she probably didn't have an option she rolled her eyes and followed him to the large touch screen where he exclaimed the rules of the game: Slice all the fruit in half, but don't slice any of the bombs. He inserted the correct number of quarters in the game and it began. Kate had to admit that after the first few slices it became rather difficult to hit all the fruit until Castle told her she was allowed to use both hands. At the end of the game, she found her score was respectable for a first timer.

"Did ya have fun?" he asked with a knowing smile.

"Yeah, I guess, but I don't see how this is brainstorming. Do you do this a lot?"

"Sure! Sometimes if I focus my mind on something else, it makes it easier to think about the case. Now, I want you to tell me your thoughts on the three murders and how they're connected."

"My thoughts?" she asked suspiciously.

"If you show me yours, I'll show you mine," he told her with a wicked grin.

She turned to him with her fists at her hip. "I'm not interested in playing those kind of games, Detective."

He laughed at her. "Relax, Kate! Lighten up! Look around; there are plenty of games to play. C'mon, just tell me what you're thinking."

Proceeding with caution, she stepped aside as he took his turn at the game. "Okay, I guess the first thing I'm wondering is if we're operating under the assumption that the same person killed all three women-"

"Which we are," he interjected as he sliced three watermelons at once.

"-then why did it take him ten years to commit the next murder?"

"Sweet! Time bonus!" he called out. "That's what I was thinking about, too. Three murders means serial killers, which means crazy person, but even crazy people have guidelines."

"Do you think the victims are connected?"

"Possibly, I'm not sure. We don't know if anyone looked to see if the two girls from oh-three were connected, but even if they did, how would Bethany connect? She would have still been in high school when they were killed."

"So the victims could be random," she said in a slightly more defeated tone.

"Could be, but let's focus on the killer not the victims for the moment. Okay, I'm a psycho killer. I kill two girls then just…what? Chill out for ten years and then wake up one morning and say, 'Hmm…today feels like a good day to kill again.'"

"Maybe he moved away to a different city, killed people there, and then just moved back recently?" She offered.

"Or," Castle said, stopping mid-game to look at her. "Maybe he was put away so he couldn't kill people."

She smiled. "Like he was in prison for ten years and just got out—that could make sense."

He smiled back. "Yes it could." He pocketed the rest of his change and confidently led the way back out on to the streets.

"So what now?" Kate asked as she followed, excitement evident in her voice. "Do we look in to anyone put in jail in the weeks after the second murder in 2003?"

"In New York City?" he laughed and shook his head. "That list would be endless. It would take you a year to trace every name."

"Not if we only looked at people sentenced for ten years or more."

He considered this for a moment, tilting his head back and forth as he did so. "Yes, that would narrow the list significantly, but you're still searching pretty blindly."

"So what do we do?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?!"

"Well, not right now, anyway." He signed and shrugged his shoulders. "Look, I don't like this either, but technically I'm not supposed to be investigating this case as a serial killing. I know I'm not one to follow rules to the T, but we've been a little shorthanded since Dino keeled over and I just can't see devoting time to a wild goose chase. Bethany's murder is still an open case…maybe something will turn up in that case that will point us in the right direction."

"Or maybe he'll kill again," she said with faux optimism.

"Gee, thanks, Kate."

"Hey," she said, shrugging. "You do what you gotta do. Let me know if you find anything?"

"Will do," he nodded. "See ya around, Kate."


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

Bethany Landon's case was cold. Arctic, in fact. Castle hated admitting defeat, but this one got him. No witnesses, no DNA, no finger prints. Nothing to go on. As with any other case, after a few weeks with no new leads, the C.O. told them to put that one on the shelf and move on to the next. Putting away the murder board without a confession was Castle's least favorite part of the job.

Fortunately for him (but rather unfortunately for the people of the city) the murders did not stop. Another week of hundred degree temps in August brought on a rash of homicides, most of them arguments gone awry, until a week into the new school year when everything change.

Castle sat at his desk at nine a.m. reading through that morning's _Times_ articles (something he'd been doing daily since he first met the intriguing Kate Beckett six weeks prior) when the call came in. Female D.B on 17th. Since he'd yet to be assigned a new partner (budget cuts—not that he was complaining) he rode solo; Ryan and Esposito were meeting him there.

The ordinary street was lined with restaurants, pawn shops, and bodegas just like any other. Midway down the block the police tape sectioned off an area three businesses long. All three were abandoned with "For Lease" signs in the broken windows and various graffiti marks on the exterior. Aside from some uniforms and the M.E. van, he was first on the scene.

Castle ducked under the police tape, nodding hello to his fellow flatfoots, and proceeded towards the body. As soon as she came in to view, his heart sank. Beneath her blonde hair, young face and pink lip gloss was a pool of read; her throat had been slashed.

"Castle," Lanie said from behind him. He turned to see her retrieving her kit from the back of the van. "You're going to want to see this."

"What?" he asked, following her. She led the way to the victim's right side and held up her hand. All the nails were painted neon pink except one. Her ring finger was painted black.

"Son of a bitch," he exhaled.

Lanie glanced up at him. "Looks like you may have that serial killer after all."

Castle swore under his breath as he pulled his iPhone out of his pocket. He turned away and pulled up a text message to Kate. He entered the address and added _ASAP You gotta see this_ to the message before hitting send. As he donned standard-issue blue plastic gloves, he spotted Ryan and Esposito's unit rolling up.

"Make sure you interview all the witnesses and talk with the guy who called it in," Castle told them.

"You got it," Esposito replied.

Castle nodded to him and then returned to the sidewalk. The girl was propped up against the brick separation between two businesses. She was surrounded on one side by dented, filthy trash cans which, he decided, may have been why it took so long for someone to discover her body. She wore a top that appeared to be a dark green or blue, red capri pants, and flats. He saw no purse or bag nearby. "TOD?" he asked Lanie.

"Between ten and midnight last night," she replied.

"And no one reported her until now?" he wondered aloud, not really expecting an answer. "What else can you-"

"Detective?" One of the uniforms interrupted, stepping up on the sidewalk. Castle turned to look at him. "There's a reporter here asking for you. She said her name is-"

"Beckett," Castle finished for him. He followed the direction the officer pointed and found her standing along the caution tape behind one of the squad cars. "What'd ya do? Fly here?" he asked her.

"No I heard about the female D.B. on my police scanner. I was already halfway here when I got your text."

"Of course you were," he sighed and lifted the tape for her.

"So?" she asked after ducking under it.

"Go see for yourself," he said, gesturing towards the body. Noticing that the crime scene techs had arrived, he approached them, wanting to make sure they knew to be extra careful when looking for blood spatter and fingerprints.

After speaking with them, he turned back to the body and saw that Kate was crouched down beside Lanie. He could see the red soles of her black pumps and wondered for the millionth time how women did anything in heels that high.

"Find anything else Lanie?" Castle asked.

"Yes," she said, holding up the victim's left hand. "Look at the ring finger. See the angle its on?"

"Unnatural," he commented. "Broken?"

"Yes and I'd be willing to be postmortem from the lack of bruising."

"Could…could that have happened if the killer was pulling off a wedding ring?" Kate asked.

"Very good, Kate," Lanie said with a smile. "That is very possible. A wedding ring or an engagement ring."

"So the victim couldn't be identified?" Kate asked Castle.

"Or so the ring could be sold," he said. From several feet away, Esposito called out his name and gestured for him to come closer. Castle excused himself and left the ladies alone.

"So," Lanie began as she stood, carrying her kit back to her van. "Are you and Castle sleeping together now?"

"Excuse me?!" Kate squeaked, never expecting such a brazen question.

"Hey," Lanie said, setting her case down and holding up her hands in defense. "I'm just asking, not judging. After all, he does know how to show a girl a good time."

Recognizing a knowing smirk, Kate folded her arms over her chest and asked, "You've slept with him?"

Lanie smiled in his general direction before looking back at Kate. "We've fooled around a bit. How about you?"

"And what makes you think he'd even want to sleep with me?"

Lanie let out a burst of laughter. "Well, honey, first you're female and breathing. Second, you're a very pretty breathing female. Third…" she let her voice drift off as she looked over at the trio of detectives. "That man is a brilliant detective, but a bit of a lone wolf. Doesn't let too many people see what's going on in that head of his—what's really going on. He hates being partnered up. After Sal's episode he was so giddy that I think I saw fireworks shoot out his ears. Yet," she paused to skim her gaze down to Kate's feet and back up again, "he invited you to work with him."

Kate was silent for a moment before stating, "It's just a case."

"Right," Lanie said with a patronizing head nod. "Just a case."

"Bro are you for real? Bringing that…that…that _girl_ here?" Esposito asked, fury prohibiting his words from coming out clearly.

"Espo, seriously man, you have got to get over this. She's not out to get you; she's going to help us," Castle explained.

"Help us?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah, with the case. What'd you guys find out?"

"Body was called in by a Vic Martinez," Ryan said, reading from his notepad. "He owns the bodega across the street. Didn't notice the girl when he came to work but about an hour ago he looked out his window and saw what he thought were legs on the ground, so he came out to investigate and found her. He does have security cameras at his place, but they point directly at the front door so that's probably a dead end."

"Any other witnesses?" Castle asked.

"Not really," Esposito told him. "It's mostly businesses around here—abandoned business at that. It gets pretty dead at night."

"So why was our vic here?" he asked, glancing back to the body, which was being loaded in to the back of the M.E. van.

"Was the body dumped here?"

"Don't think so. I could see the splatter patterns on the sidewalk—just like with the last victim."

"The last victim?" Ryan asked.

"Bethany Landon," Castle told them.

"The murders are connected!?"

"They all are," Castle said. "And Kate and I are going to prove it."

Castle and Kate met in the middle of the street after their respective conversations. "Come back to the precinct with me?"

"With you?" Kate asked, mildly surprised.

"Yeah. I've got to explain to my captain that this is now a serial case and that we need to get all we can on the two murders from 2003 and I'd like you to help me with that."

"Oh," she said with slight surprised. "Sure—thanks!"

He smiled at her. "No prob."

Back at the twelfth, Castle faced a familiar parade of stares as he led his reporter companion in to the squad room. Ignoring them completely, he walked directly to the Captain's office. His usual plan of action was to avoid that particular location in the precinct as though his life depended on it, however to open up old cases the way he was planning, it was a necessary evil. He rapped on the open door and poked his head in the room asking, "Captain Brown? Do you have a minute?"

The fifty-something, salt-and-pepper haired captain looked up and waved him in. "What is it Rodgers? Do you—well," his voice softened immediately upon seeing Castle's companion. "Who do we have here?"

_Damn,_ Castle thought to himself. He'd forgotten to warn Kate that his Captain was a complete and total horndog despite being on his third marriage. Oh well, she'd just have to discover that on her own.

"Sir, this is Kate Beckett from the _New York Times_," Castle said.

"Oh?" the captain said as he walked around his desk and took her extended hand with both of his. He held on just a little too long, stroking her wrist as their hands pumped together. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Castle stifled a laugh at the expression of disgust Kate tried to hide as she wrenched her hand back. "Well, Sir, we were just at the murder scene from this morning—a young woman whose throat was slit—and we believe that her murder is actually the fourth in a series of murders committed by the same person."

The smile immediately dropped off Captain Brown's face. "You think _what_?"

Castle glanced at Kate and then back at the captain. "You're probably going to want to sit down for this."


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

Half an hour later, Castle and Kate stood in front of the squad room, dozens of detectives' eyes on them. After pleading their case to the captain, he agreed the fingernail paint plus the manner of death of all the girls was enough evidence to proceed with investigating all four murders together. Now, it was time to present to the class.

"Jane Doe," Castle said, gesturing towards the picture at the left hand side of the murder board. "Late twenties, killed sometime between ten and midnight last night."

Moving his hand to the right, he gestured to each of the pictures in turn. "Bethany Landon, killed six weeks ago. Melody Timbers killed May of 2003 and Janice Thompson killed April of 2003. The same killer murdered each of these women."

"A serial killer? Killing ten years apart?" Esposito asked.

"Yes. We don't know why yet, but what we do know is that all four women were killed in the same manner—their throats were slit. Also, there's this." Below each of the girl's photographs he tacked four more pictures: close up shots of each girl's right hands.

"Victim one—a black painted thumbnail. Victim two—a black painted index finger. Victim three—_missing_ black paint on her middle finger while all other fingers were painted black. Victim four—a black painted ring finger. Four victims."

A detective in the back of the room raised his hand and asked, "How did you discover the victims from oh-three?"

"Ah, well, allow me to turn that over to Kate Beckett from the _New York Times_," Castle said, gesturing to the woman standing beside the murder board.

Kate took a step forward and tugged at the hem of her black suit jacket. "I found them, actually. When I heard about Ms. Landon's murder and her missing fingernail polish, I remembered reading about the Timbers and Thompson murders and brought them to the attention of Detective Ca—Rodgers."

"So now it's time to divide and conquer," Castle told them. "Ryan, Esposito—you work on ID'ing this morning's victim. Henderson and Sanchez—I want you to scour that entire neighborhood for witnesses, traffic cams or anything that could help us ID the killer. Kate and I are going to pull up everything we can from the oh-three murders." And with that, he dismissed the meeting.

"Yo Castle," Esposito beckoned Castle to come closer. "Did you say that you and Kate are working together?"

"Yeah," he said glancing back to his companion with a grin. "I convinced Captain Brown to let her work with me on this case—you know since I'm technically partnerless and all. Plus, she is the one who brought us those cold cases."

"Right," Esposito said with notable suspicion. He turned to Kate. "Okay, chica, I don't have to like you to work with you, but I feel it's only right to warn you: Captain Brown only let you in here because he wants to nail you."

"Oh yeah," Castle grimaced as he looked back to her. "Forgot to warn you about that."

"Believe it or not, I gathered that much on my own," she told them, suppressing a shiver at the memory of their earlier handshake. "But don't worry about me; I can handle it."

After Esposito and his partner left, Kate turned to Castle and asked, "So, what's next?"

"Well we get to go in a field trip to a very exciting place: the records room."

"To get the information for the 2003 murders?" she asked; he nodded. "Well, actually, I have some notes I'd like to show you, but they're at my office."

"Okay, it'll take them a while to pull the files from the records room anyway. Why don't you just go get what you want to show me and bring it back?"

"Sounds like a plan," she smiled at him before heading on her way.

An hour later, Castle was just returning from the records room with two file packets when he found Kate waiting at his desk. "Impeccable timing," he told her with a smile.

"Thanks. I, uh, mind if I sit?" she asked, gesturing towards the spare chair beside his desk.

"Please."

"Thanks." She shrugged off her suit jacket, hung it on the back of the chair, sat and placed her notebook on his desk. After he sat down, she continued. "So, I started looking in to all the arrests and convictions in the six weeks after the second murder in oh-three."

Castle laughed softly and leaned his head back so he was looking at the ceiling. Of course she did; of course she didn't let it go. "And how did you manage that?"

"I have a source."

"I'm sure."

"What?"

"Nothing," he said with amusement. "Continue."

"Anyway, I focused only on people who had sentences of ten years or more so I could take in to account anyone who was paroled early. I came up with a list of thirty names. I was able to eliminate the ones still in prison, but that still leaves me with ten names."

"And what do you suppose we do with this list?" he asked her.

"Well, I dunno. Check 'em out or something?"

Castle shook his head. "It'll take too long to track down ten ex-cons when we don't even know if our guy is an ex-con. For all we know, he could have moved to California for the past nine years and now he's back. Why don't we just keep the list for now, but focus on these two cases, okay?"

She nodded in agreement and slipped her notepad back into her briefcase. "So would you like Melody or Janice?" he asked.

"Melody," she said. He nodded and handed her the folder.

They agreed to review their file and summarize their findings to each other to speed up their process. Castle spread most of the files out on his desk while Kate was stuck with her lap and just one corner of his work space. Every now and then he glanced up from the file and watched her. She'd twisted her hair up at the back of her head and pinned it with a yellow pencil. As she read, she chewed on her left thumbnail and traced the words she was reading by dragging her right index finger over the page.

Forty minutes later, they reconvened. "So, Melody was a waitress," Kate began. "She got off her shift at eleven and always walked back to her apartment the same way. In the morning, her roommate noticed she hadn't come home and thought that was odd, but didn't think anything of it until she went to leave for work and saw the police tape when she was on her way to work at the same restaurant as Melody."

"How far from her work to her apartment?"

"Um," Kate looked down at the file. "She worked on 17th and lived on 21st. Her body was found on 18th underneath a street lamp with a burnt out bulb."

"Okay. Janice was going to night school to earn her degree in cosmetology. She got off at her usual subway stop but only made it about halfway to her building. Body was found propped up on the stoop of an apartment building. Paperboy found it when he went to deliver the _Times_."

"Okay, well there's a connection," Kate said. "Melody was also a student."

"Where?"

Kate consulted the file. "She was studying to be a paralegal at the New School."

"Which is nowhere near the cosmetology school. Besides, Bethany wasn't taking any classes."

"But she _was_ a teacher."

"At an elementary school; you're reaching," Castle told her.

"Where was Janice's body found?"

"Ah," he said, consulting the file. "16th and 3rd."

"Okay…so that's relatively close, only a few blocks away."

"But Bethany was found way further uptown than that," Castle told her.

"But today's victim was found at 17th and Irving—right in the middle of the first two. We should make a map!" she said with excitement.

He smiled at her tone. "Great idea. I'll let you have the honors."

Half an hour later, after getting a printed map of the Gramercy Park area of New York, Kate tagged each of the murder locations for the four victims. As they'd previously discovered, three of them were clustered fairly close together while the third location—the one of Bethany's Murder—was twelve blocks above the next closest murder scene. Before their discussion continued any further, Castle announced that he was hungry and would run out for lunch for them both. She informed that wasn't necessary, but he insisted, telling her he'd be back shortly.

Kate remained at the precinct scanning through Janice's file in the fifteen minutes she was away. She was too focused on her reading to even notice the peculiar stares she received from everyone who walked past Castle's desk and wondered why a strange woman wearing a visitor's badge sat at it. When he returned, he presented her with a sandwich and chips from what he proclaimed to be his favorite deli (near work, anyway).

"Okay," he said, in between bites of roast beef on Italian. "What does the map tell us?"

"That Bethany's murder is the outlier?"

"Right. Why?"

"Well," she said, setting down her bag of chips. "We agree that the killer was somewhere in the past ten years—whether it was in prison or out of the state, he wasn't in New York, right?"

"Agreed."

"Okay, so, when he came back…he lived somewhere different?" she offered, though her voice sounded weak since she knew her theory to be a stretch.

"So," he said, standing and walking to the murder board. "You're implying that the killer lived somewhere around the location of murders one and two and now lives somewhere around murder three? I'd like it, except that murder four is right back in his old stomping grounds."

"Right," she said with a tone of defeat.

"No, it's okay," he said. Truthfully, he'd been thinking the same thing. A killer killing those close by made sense, but it didn't answer the question as to why Bethany's murder was the outlier.

After retrieving his bag of chips, he munched on them as he paced back and forth in front of the murder board, examining the photos of the murder scenes and the map together. Suddenly, he stopped and leaned in close to the pictures of the second murder scene. "Wait a second…"

"What?" Kate asked.

"I think I have something. Hold on…where's Melody's murder file?"

"Here," she said, passing it over.

After a few minutes of scanning through the pages he proclaimed, "Ah ha!"

"What? What?" she questioned excitedly.

"Okay, four murders, four murder scenes. In the case of murders one, three, and four the body was found very close to if not right at the scene of the murder. Blood spatter from arterial spray was found close to the bodies at all of the scenes…except for murder two."

"Melody's body was moved after she was killed," Kate concluded.

"Yes. And according to these files the original murder scene was never found."

"Is that unusual?"

"In an unsolved case? Nah, but it is another disruption in the pattern. Something must have happened when he was killing Melody."

"Do you think maybe someone saw him?" Kate asked.

Castle nodded his head briefly. "It's possible, but not the only option. Besides, no one reported it so even if the killer thought someone saw something, they might not have actually scene it." Kate nodded and then turned back to Janice's murder file.

By mid-afternoon, the detective teams were returning to the precinct after their research in to the overnight murder. Unfortunately, none of them had good news. Ryan and Esposito were unable to identify the victim. Her prints were not in any database they searched and there was no way to ID her from what was left on or around the body. They would be forced to wait until someone reported her missing.

The team of detectives tasks with searching for security cameras or any other video footage also came up empty handed. Since the body was found on the side of the street with many vacated businesses, there were no cameras directly near where her body was placed. There was a traffic camera at a nearby intersection, but it did not have a very good view of the sidewalk, so if the killer escaped on foot it would not help them.

As Castle was briefed by his fellow detectives, he failed to notice the captain exit his office on his usual mid-afternoon coffee pilgrimage. On his way, he was distracted by Kate eyeing up the murder board. By the time Castle realized what was happening, he noticed she was wearing one of the most uncomfortable expressions he'd ever seen on a human being.

"Sorry we don't have anything to report yet, Cap," Castle said loudly as he approached.

"Wha-oh…oh that's okay Rodgers. I was just having a lovely chat with Kate here. She seems to be _quite_ an addition to our team," Captain Brown said with a grin toward Kate. She nodded her head politely at him.

"Yes, that she is. We'd better get going, though, Kate; we don't want to keep Lanie waiting." He turned towards the captain and added, "ME has the results from the body."

"Ah, yes. Keep up the good work Rodgers. Kate," he grinned before walking away.

Kate rolled her shoulders back and looked at him. "So did you make that up?"

"No, Lanie really did text me, but otherwise I would have had to make up something. Sorry about that," he said, thumbing towards the captain's office.

"He told me that if I had any questions about anything I could come to him and maybe we could even have dinner and chat about it," she explained.

"Ah. And I bet you're absolutely going to take him up on that offer."

"Absolutely," she said with notable sarcasm.

* * *

"Thanks for coming all the way down here guys," Lanie said as the duo entered her autopsy room.

"Well you know me," Castle told her. "Any excuse for a field trip."

"Of course. Anyway, COD should be no surprise—that cut to her throat pretty much did the trick. And, yes, before you ask it is consistent with the other three. Your killer is most likely over six feet tall and he is right handed."

"What about the nail polish?" Kate asked.

"I scraped some off the nail and sent it to the lab to test, but don't get your hopes up," Lanie warned her.

"Anything different about this victim?" Castle asked her.

"Actually, now that you mention it, yes. Like the other victims, she did not have any signs of defensive wounds on her hands and it appears as though the killer came at her from behind, but she does have a fresh cut on her abdomen."

"Where?" Castle asked. Lanie pulled back she sheet on the body, which still had the chest cut open, and ribs pulled out as it was mid-autopsy. A loud gasp came from behind them and they both looked up to see Kate with her back to them, her hands over her face.

"Oh Kate, I'm sorry," Lanie said genuinely. "I didn't think to warn you."

"I'm fine," Kate said with notable weakness. She did not turn back around until after Castle saw the wound just above her belly button and Lanie replaced the sheet.

"What do you think caused that? Was it the same knife that slit her throat?" Castle asked.

"Most likely. The cut on her abdomen came after she was dead due to the lack of bleeding. It's not very deep though."

"What does that mean?" Kate asked, a bit of color returning to her cheeks.

Lanie looked between her and Castle. "I don't know, that's for you guys to figure out. It may be nothing, but it was a deviation from the other victims so I thought I'd mention it."

Back out on the street, Kate walked forward and leaned her left palm against a lamp post, breathing deeply. Castle vividly recalled the sight of his first autopsied corpse and the vomiting that followed and sympathized with her. "You look like you could use a drink," he told her. "I'm buying." She nodded to him and let him lead the way.

A few blocks later he ducked in to what could easily be classified as a cop bar with her in tow. He ordered bourbon for himself and told his companion to pick her poison. She chose a vodka and soda and downed half of it in one gulp. They sat in a comfortable silence for several minutes at a booth near the back. She traced the edges of her glass with her fingertips, refusing to look at him.

"This must be killing you," she finally said.

"What?"

"You've been serious for over fifteen minutes; that's the longest since I met you," she said, finally looking up to meet his eye. "Aren't you dying to make fun of me for almost losing it in the autopsy room?"

"What happens in the autopsy room stays in the autopsy room," he told her seriously. She cracked a wry smile and took another sip of her drink. He swirled the ice in his glass and looked down at it for several moments before saying, "My father died when I was twelve." He looked up at her and saw that he had her full attention, so he continued.

"He was a cop, too. Well, for a while anyway. After he was shot—and to clarify, when I say he was shot I mean that he shot himself. In the foot. While cleaning his gun."

She cocked her head to the side. "You're making that up."

"You wish I was. No, the Rodgers family is full of heroes, let me tell you. Anyway, after he was shot he retired from the force and became a security guard at one of those fancy buildings in the financial district. He had a heart attack one evening after dinner and…" he paused and shrugged his shoulders. "That was it."

"I'm sorry to hear that; I'm sure that was very hard at your age," she told him.

He smiled softly and stared down in to his glass. "I know this will be difficult for you to imagine, but when I was in school, I was a bit of a class clown."

"No!"

He looked up at her and smiled. "It's true, I was. One day not too long before he died, I was sent to the principal for putting all the mice from the chemistry lab in the English teacher's classroom. My father said to me, 'Ricky you've got to stop this foolishness. You've got to grow up. You've got to quit playing around or no one will take you seriously.'

"My dad was a serious man. His job was serious. Life was serious. To him, everything was serious. And so when he died I made a decision that I was either going to laugh a lot and live longer than he did, or I was going to have a hell of a fun time while life lasted because," he gave a gentle shrug, "life is just too short to be serious."

She nodded her head at his words. Though she was not one to ham it up, she could appreciate what he was saying. Life was too short, particularly for their four victims. She could also appreciate the power of a moment—the kind that changed you and stayed with you forever.

She opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it and studied his face. She considered what she was about to say for a moment, but then realized it fit with their original agreement: a truth for a truth. "My mother died too," she told him. "When I was twelve."

Castle studied her. She stared at him, unwavering; her expression was a mystery, but from her tone he knew not to pry for any more information than she'd given. "I'm sorry to hear that," he told her.

She nodded to him, raised her glass and finished off her drink. "So…I gotta ask—where did the nickname Castle come from?"

"Oh," he laughed. "Well that's actually not that interesting of a story."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that," she smiled at him.

He nodded and leaned towards her, resting his forearms on the table. "My first arrest as a detective was a guy who killed his fiancée just hours after they got engaged."

"Seriously?" she interrupted. "Who does that?"

"She was complaining about the ring, they argued, he pushed her down some stairs, tried to make it look like an accident—it was this whole long thing, but when I finally cuffed him, I took him in to booking and said 'I'm here to lock Prince Charming in the castle dungeon.'"

Kate snorted with laughter. "Why in the hell would you say that?"

He sighed and leaned back in the booth. "Honestly? I have no idea. It sounded good at the time, but somehow everyone got wind of it and the reference stuck so I became Castle," he admitted with a shrug.

"I guess that's a better nickname than Prince Charming," she said.

"No way! At least then I'd get to have a sword or something."

"You have a gun," she informed him seriously.

"Eh, who doesn't?" he said with the casual wave-off of his hand. "Now a sword—_that's_ unique."


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

The following morning, Castle decided he would wait until he was settled in to his desk before texting Kate to see what her plans were for that day. After all, they were practically at a dead end until they could ID their vic. Much to his surprise, though, she was waiting for him at his desk, coffee just the way he liked it in her hand.

"Hey! Who let you in here? Security!" he said in jest.

"Morning Castle," she said with minimal amusement.

"Getting an early start?"

She shrugged and nodded. "Esposito says they ID'd the victim."

"Esposito…told you that?" he asked with notable curiosity, wondering why Espo was suddenly speaking to the woman he deemed his arch enemy. When Kate nodded, Castle glanced across the squad room to the dark-skinned man staring at them.

"What?" Esposito replied. "We called a truce; no biggie."

Castle suppressed and eye roll before asking, "So who is she?"

"Chloe Evans," Esposito's partner, Ryan, told them. "Fiancé is on his way in now. He reported her missing yesterday evening when she didn't come home from work."

"Fiancé…so that's why her finger was broken. The killer ripped off her engagement ring," Kate deduced.

"Seems likely, yeah," Castle agreed.

When the fiancé, Todd Merion, arrived, Castle invited Kate in to the interview room with them. She was surprised, but agreed on the stipulation that she could come as long as she didn't interfere with his questioning in any way.

Within just a few minutes of their conversation, Castle knew he was not the killer. Todd was genuinely distraught and confused about his fiancé's grisly death. He explained that Chloe had been at a friend's house the night before, so when he woke up in the morning and found she wasn't there, he figured she'd stayed with her friend and didn't think twice about it.

By lunchtime, he'd sent her several unanswered texts but was not over concerned; she'd been known to let her phone battery die. When he still hadn't heard from her by the time he finished work, he phoned the friend she was with and when that friend told him Chloe had not spent the night he began a frantic search for her, which led to him to report her missing.

Todd was able to provide them with the critical information that the location of Chloe's body was on a walking path between her friend's house and their apartment, but he could not explain why she chose to walk at that hour rather than take a cab. He also could not think of anyone suspicious who had been around them lately, or anyone who would want to harm his fiancée.

By the end of that day it became obvious that just like with Bethany's murder, they did not have enough to find their killer from just the crime scene and victim history information.

"We need to connect these cases," Castle told his team. "Somehow, someway these four girls are related and we need to find it."

He explained to Kate that one of the best ways to find connections was to follow the money trail. They needed to look in to the credit and debit card transactions from their victims and see what they had in common. "Of course," he continued, "we know that Janice, Bethany and Chloe all lived in the same neighborhood, so just because they all went to the same bodega doesn't mean that's where our killer works."

"Why would it be that easy?" she replied in jest.

They split the financial data between the five main detectives and Kate. Each person received the financial history for two of the girls, but each pairing was unique so they could see the connections between each of the girls as detailed as possible. As Castle predicted, there were more than a few overlaps.

Kate, who had Janice and Melody, found many overlaps, but, since their murders occurred a decade prior, some of the businesses they went to were no longer in operation, which significantly narrowed the list. Castle had Bethany and Melody, who had absolutely no purchases in common in their four weeks before death time window. Ryan, Esposito, Henderson and Sanchez came up with a mismatch of information as well.

Once all the shared purchasing locations were displayed on the murder board, the group reviewed their findings. "There," Esposito said. "The Baker's Bean—a coffee shop and deli on eighteenth. Janice, Melody and Chloe all had purchases there in the weeks before their death. It looks like Chloe went there almost every day."

"Yeah," Castle continued, "but Bethany never went there."

"But it's the only place that three of the four girls went to," Ryan said.

"So…do we check it out?" Kate asked.

"We can," Esposito said. "We'll show Chloe's picture around. They might recognize her since it seems like she's a regular. Maybe she was seen there with someone. Talking or arguing."

"So what do we do?" Kate asked when they left.

"Keep looking," Castle told her. "Maybe there's something we missed."

* * *

Unfortunately for the team, within a few weeks Chloe's case was just as cold as all the rest. The coffee shop turned out to be a dead end. Though the regular barista did recognize Chloe, he said from what he could tell she always came in alone and almost never stuck around; she just picked up her coffee and left. The bodega that Chloe and Melody went to was also a dead end.

With no more new leads, the case took a backseat to the other murders rolling through their precinct. Probably serial killer or not, the captain favored cases with evidence that could actually be followed rather than wild goose chases. As a result, Kate's presence around the Twelfth became less and less frequent. Every few days Castle would text her, knowing she was still looking in to things during her down time, but she had made as little progress as his team had.

Five weeks after Chloe's murder, Castle was at his desk enjoying a mid-morning Snickers bar when a call came in about a familiar murder. Female D.B. Throat slashed. Castle made the uniformed officer on the phone confirm that yes, the victim had one finger—a pinky finger—painted black before scribbling down the address and hurrying out of the precinct.

* * *

Kate Beckett was just finishing blow drying her hair when she heard the familiar ring of her cellphone coming from across the apartment. Still wearing her robe she scurried to the kitchen and answered without looking at the caller ID.

"We got another one."

"Castle?" she responded with mild confusion.

"There's been another murder. I'm coming to pick you up."

"You don't know where I live," she replied.

"Yes I do," he said. "I'm outside your building. Buzz me up."

Her jaw dropping slightly she squeaked, "How do you know where I live?"

"Did you forget the part where I'm a cop? Buzz me up."

Groaning to herself, she slammed the phone down and hurried to the buzzer beside the front door of her apartment. Once she was sure he was on his way, she rushed back to the bedroom to dress; the last thing she needed was Castle finding her in her underwear.

"Hi," he grinned when she opened the door.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not even finished getting ready yet." She'd barely had time to throw on pants and a shirt before he was knocking at her door and thus her face was completely sans makeup.

"So what? You don't want to come to the scene?" he questioned. She said nothing. "C'mon its fine—I'll wait. It's not like the vic will get any deader."

"The vic?"

"Yep. Blonde girl. Slit throat. Half ass manicure—the usu."

Slightly annoyed with his caviler attitude towards the fifth killing in this series, she stepped aside and begrudgingly let him in. After telling him to wait on the couch, she disappeared in to the bathroom.

Completely ignoring her directions, Castle began to survey the apartment. He'd been surprised to learn her address, knowing that the apartments in her neighborhood came with a much higher price tag than he could afford on his civil servant salary. He would have thought a journalist to be in a similar boat, but then he supposed that a Pulitzer might change things.

Her apartment was what he would have described as neat and uncluttered. It was small, as all New York apartments not on the Upper West Side were, but not too cramped. It comfortably fit a couch, television, small office area, small dining area, and dozens of bookshelves.

Ever the detective, he began to pursue the titles and noticed that one shelf had nearly a dozen books by the same author: Jasmine Key. He smirked to himself and sighed, "Why Kate Beckett, you dirty girl." To the best of his knowledge Jasmine Key wrote almost exclusively erotic literature or "Bodice-rippers" as he referred to them. Though he wasn't a fan of the genre, it was clear by the number of books she owned Kate was.

Still smiling, he turned away from the shelf and walked over to the alcove where her laptop sat atop a petite cherry desk. There were bookcases behind the desk as well, so he approached, but found his path blocked. Right beside the desk sat a large cardboard box with the top flaps partially open. He could see inside the partial logo for Jasmine Key.

Intrigued, he bent down and parted the box flaps with his index fingers. There was indeed a Jasmine Key novel inside, but not just one. The box held dozens of books and, strangely, they were all of the same title: _Chasing Down Love_. The letters were scrawled in a large crimson overtop a glowing yellow sunset-over-water scene.

Castle glanced up at the book case with the other Key books and then back down at the box. Why would she need dozens of copies of the same book? It didn't make sense. He picked up one of the books and held it as he shut the flaps on the box. In doing so, he spotted the address label. It was addressed to "J. Key C/O Katharine Beckett" at her address.

"What are you doing?" her shocked voice interrupted his investigating. She stomped over to him and wrenched the book out of his hands. "Don't touch my stuff!"

"I was—I—I just," he stopped stammering and looked down at the book, up at her, down at the book and back up at her and her paling complexion. The realization hit him like a slap to the face. "No way!"

Her eyes dropped and she took a step back. "I can explain."

"Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh _my_ god!" he proclaimed, his voice getting louder with each repetition.

"Castle…"

"Oh my god!"

"Just let me-"

"It all makes sense!" he proclaimed as he walked around to the other side of her desk. "I could never figure it out, but it all makes sense! The shoes, the jewelry, the clothes! All high-end on a journalist salary? Even with the Pulitzer, it didn't quite fit. And then this apartment? Sure, you could have had a grandmother that won the lottery or invested in the Microsoft IPO, but even that wasn't quite right. But this! This!" He proclaimed proudly, arms outstretched.

She dropped her book down on the desk and folded her arms across her chest. "Are you through?"

He let out a chortle of laughter. "Not a chance! You're Jasmine Key! _The_ Jasmine Key."

Her eyes narrowed. "Like you've ever heard of her before just now."

"You insult me, Ms. Key," he said with a dramatic hand clutching his chest.

"Oh, so you've read them?"

"Hell no! My ex-wife did, though, so I've seen those steamy covers before. Tell me," he began, taking a step towards her and lowering his voice, "do you write those love scenes based on your own personal experience?"

She glared at him impatiently. "Don't we have a murder scene to get to?"

"Yeah, yeah in a second—I'm not done having fun with this yet," he beamed. "For the cover, do you interview the beefcakes yourself or is there some sort of catalog for that? Guy Mall, perhaps?"

"Yeah, we're done here," she said, stalking towards the door.

He followed her, but had no intentions of stopping. He gave her a reprieve until they were in his car and then he asked, "So how'd you become Jasmine Key?"

She let out a groan and looked over to him, "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Never," he said proudly. After a minute of silence from her he continued. "There were what? Ten of Jasmine's books on that shelf in your apartment?"

"Yes," she replied. "_Chasing Down Love_ is the eleventh."

He repeated the book title under his breath and chuckled. Though he'd only skimmed a few of the covers, he did notice the common theme of her titles: _Fearless for Love, Dying for Love, Angry with Love_. "How long have you been doing this?"

With an exasperated sigh she told him, "I was still in college when I published my first for a meager five thousand dollars. I needed money for tuition and I was always good at creative writing so I thought why not?"

"Yeah, but why trashy romance and not, you know, something legit?"

She gaped at him. "Excuse me. My books are completely legit."

"Yeah, nothing says legit like Fabio half naked on the cover..."

"Have you been on a subway recently?" she challenged.

"Every day on my way to work."

"And did you ever notice what books the women are reading?"

"Hmm… Twenty Shades of that S&M guy?"

"There," she said pointing at him with her index finger. "You just answered your own question: sex sells."

"Yeah, but I gotta say I'm a little disappointed."

"What? Why?"

"Because I never though a Pulitzer Prize winner such as yourself would be such a main-stream sellout. Ah! Damned traffic," he swore at the congestion of delivery trucks and taxis snarling the roadway in front of him. "Let's just park here and hoof it; its only a bit further."

He parked his vehicle in the nearest free space and led the way down the street. After a few steps, he noticed she wasn't beside him so he looked back and saw her following along with pursed lips, arms folded over her chest, and a significant scowl. "What's with the chill, Frosty-pants?" he asked her.

"I'm not a sellout," she snapped at him.

"Yeah? How many times did you use the term 'throbbing member' in your last book?"

She clicked her tongue at him. "Writing for this genre doesn't make me a sellout; it just makes me an opportunist. I found a way to make money and stuck with it—oh what a horrible person I am."

"Ah," he sighed, shaking his head. "It's not your fault. You're a victim of the Carrie generation—heels just aren't heels unless they're Christian Lo-boats or whatever."

"Louboutin," she corrected.

"I rest my case." He stopped walking and turned to face her. "I just think you're better than that."

Though he kept walking, she paused to consider his words for a moment, but a sudden, loud car horn honking startled her and caused her to look around. She'd been so distracted by him irritating her about Jasmine Key's books, she'd failed to realize what block they'd arrived at.

A cold sweat forming over her body, she scurried to catch up with him. "Castle? Where is this crime scene?"

"Just up ahead," he said, pointing towards the police tape. "In that alley."

He took three more steps and realized she wasn't behind him. He stopped, turned and saw the complexion on her face now strongly matched the sidewalk at her feet. "Kate?" he questioned, taking two steps back towards her.

She looked up at him, eyes wide. "That's…that's the alley where my father was killed."

* * *

**Author's Note: I just couldn't resist the ****_Nikki Heat_**** parallel in this chapter. Victoria St Clair anyone?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

He knew about her father's death, of course. After she'd confessed to him that her mother had passed away when she was twelve, he just couldn't suppress his curiosity; it was the detective in him. He looked up her mother's obituary and saw that she passed away after a battle with breast cancer.

In his search for people with the last name Beckett, he was stunned to also find the obituary for a James Beckett. Included in his list of surviving relatives was a daughter named Katharine. After a few more searches he found an article about the same man killed in a mugging-turned-murder. His heart broke for her, but he never brought it up, figuring it was too painful for her to discuss. Now, it appeared, they didn't have a choice.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked her. "Going in there, I mean."

"I…" she said, letting her eyes drift towards the break in the buildings ahead. "I…haven't been back here since…since he…"

"You know what? It's fine. You don't need to go in there," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'll go in there, check out the body, and let you know what I find, okay?"

"No," she told him. She appreciated his concern, but she was a big girl. And it was just an alley, right? "I'll—I'll be fine. I just need a minute."

He smiled reassuringly at her. "Sure. Take your time and join me when you're ready."

Castle paused at the uniformed office guarding the cordoned off section of the street. He told the man to let Kate through when she was ready and then glanced back over her shoulder. His heart broke when he saw her standing facing the street, hands covering her face. With a sympathetic smile in her direction, he ducked under the yellow tape and continued in to the alley.

"Please tell me this asshole left his business card under the body this time?" he asked the M.E.

"Fraid not, Detective," she replied, "but it certainly fits with the rest: blonde girl, slashed throat, black fingernail."

Castle examined the victim's right hand, which Lanie held. Her pinky was indeed painted black while the rest of her nails were unpolished. With a sigh, he grazed his eyes over the body. If he was forced to guess, he would have said immediately that she was the youngest of all the victims. The youngest thus far had been Chloe at twenty-four, but at first glance he wouldn't have pegged this girl for more than twenty or twenty-one. She wore a grey hoodie with dark skinny jeans and tennis shoes. Like the other victims, she had no wallet or bag around her.

After his initial once-over, he joined Ryan and Esposito and asked who had discovered the body. Unlike the others, this scene wasn't found until later in the morning, mainly due to the girl's position in the middle of the alley rather than out on the sidewalk where the heavy foot traffic was. Esposito explained that the body was found by a boy on his skateboard passing through the alley. Though they would look in to his story, he was immediately removed from the suspect list due to his high being only five-and-a-half feet tall.

When Castle turned back to the body, he saw Kate was approaching. Though she still wrung her hands together as she walked, her complexion was beginning to return to its normal color. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

She shook him off and nodded towards the victim. "Anything different about this one?"

"Lanie?"

"Not as far as I can tell," the M.E. replied.

Kate crouched down beside the body to get an eyelevel view of the vic. The macabre side of her briefly wondered if this was where her father's body had been found: propped up against the brick, just a few feet south of an overfilled dumpster. Shaking that image from her mind, she tilted her head and spotted something. "Hey, are there words on the bottom of her shoe?"

Castle squatted beside her and tilted his head to get a better angle. "Yeah. Yeah I think there are. Lanie?"

The M.E. lifted the victim's leg enough so that the bottom of her shoe could be seen more easily. Scrawled across the bottom of her tennis shoes in what appeared to be black permanent marker was _Mandy A._ "Mandy," Castle read. He glanced up and looked between the two women. "Her name?"

"Could be," Kate replied.

"Um, not to speak ill of the dead, but what girl over the age of twelve writes her name on the bottom of her shoe?" he asked. Kate shrugged. "Well, whatever the reason she probably just helped us ID her a little more quickly."

After finishing up in the alley, Castle and Kate walked back to his car so they could return to the precinct and review with their colleagues. Kate was notably silent during their walk so once they were back in the car he said, "Soooo? What should we talk about?"

She glanced over to him briefly then turned her head straight. "You have an ex-wife?"

"Ah," he said. His favorite topic. "Yeah—Meredith."

"How long were you married?"

"Eight years."

"Wow," she said, turning her head to look at him. She had to admit she was surprised by that number; she would have expected one much smaller.

"But don't let that fool you—those weren't eight happy years," he clarified. When he glanced over and saw she wore a genuinely curious expression, he continued. "We met shortly after high school through mutual friends. I was in the academy at the time and she was a waitress-slash-actress. It was a whirlwind kind of thing—we got married six months after our first date."

Kate nodded, but didn't say anything else. "Anyway, we had our ups and downs like everyone else I suppose. Meredith wanted to be an actress, but unfortunately she wasn't a very good one."

"Ouch," Kate chimed in.

"It's true," he told her. "I tried to be supportive but some of her plays," he paused and shook his head. "Wow. Anyway, I worked crazy hours as a beat cop and she worked mostly nights in her plays. We didn't see each other much for, well, most of our marriage. Finally, one day she told me she was moving to California and she didn't want me to come with her."

Kate grimaced inwardly and looked over at him. "I'm sorry."

"'s okay," he told her. "It was for the best; neither of us were happy. Anyway, that was about six years ago and we haven't really spoken since."

"Oh, so she never became a famous actress?" Kate asked, partly in jest.

"No, but she was in one of those commercials for the yogurt that makes you poop."

Not expecting this, Kate burst out into laughter. "She what? You're making that up!"

"No, seriously! She was!" he insisted, laughing as well. "One night I was flipping through the channels and there she was…telling the world about her colon."

"Wow."

They rode the remainder of the way back to the Twelfth in silence, though Kate's expression was one of mild amusement rather than distress, which Castle was glad for.

When they reconvened with Ryan and Esposito, they discovered that there were no security cameras in or around the alley where the body was found. "Shocker," Castle retorted. "You know, this guy is really starting to piss me off."

"Rodgers!" the captain boomed from the doorway to his office. Castle looked over to see the cap beckoning him, so he approached.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Another one from the nail polish killings?" the captain asked; Castle nodded. "And there are still no suspects?"

"No, not right now. We have yet to ID this latest victim, though."

Captain Brown shook his head. "I don't like this, Rodgers, not one bit. The mayor is fuming. Three killings in three months and not one suspect? Not to mention the two from ten years ago. You need to close this case, Rodgers—fast."

"Trust me Sir; we are looking in to every angle. I will let you know the second we have any news," Castle assured him before returning to his colleagues.

"What was that about?" Ryan asked.

"Apparently we're not solving this case fast enough," Castle told them. He turned towards the murder board to see Kate adding another marker to their map of Gramercy—victim number five's alley. He let out a heavy breath and stuck his hands in his pants pockets.

Ever since they'd met, he'd always remained curious about how she knew about the first two murders. She said she remembered them because the nail polish seemed odd to her, but he always wondered why she'd been looking at them in the first place. It had not been a constant wonder of his, but a persistent curiosity. Now, it seemed he finally found his answer. Though the others on his team questioned her knowledge of information not released to the press, Castle always knew there had to be a rational reason; he just never expected this one.

He approached her from behind and said softly, "This is how you knew about them, isn't it?"

She turned to face him, but said nothing.

"Janice and Melody?"

She clasped her hands in front of her and turned her eyes towards the floor. "After I'd been at the _Times_ for a while, after I had sources I started looking in to all the unsolved murders around the time of my fathers. Random mugging—that's what they called it. It made sense…but at the time I just couldn't believe there was _no_ evidence."

She looked up at him with a wry smile and said, "_Now_ I understand how there can be no evidence, but back then I…I was convinced there had to be something I could find that the police missed. Stupid, right?"

"Nah," he said, shaking his head. "I'd believe it." He spoke thinking specifically of detectives like his former partner, Dino.

"Anyway, Melody and Janice's cases were two of the ones I looked at. From what I saw, no one really mentioned the nail polish so I guess it always just stuck with me," she concluded with a shrug.

"Well," he smiled at her, "I'm glad it did."

"Thanks," she said, briefly smiling at him. Her expression quickly straightened into one with a furrowed brow and straight lips. "Hey, um, I'm…I'm gonna go for a bit. I just…I just need to clear my head after…"

Though she let her voice drift off, he understood. "Of course," he nodded. "Take your time—though you will be greatly missed."

"Thanks Castle." Then, after telling him he could text her if they were able to ID the victim, she left.

Shortly after her exit, Castle made a lunch run with some colleagues, knowing he always thought better on a full stomach. While Ryan and Esposito were searching for a missing young woman named Mandy or Amanda, he scoured through the latest crime scene photos in comparison with the others, trying to find anything—similar or different—that could help find the suspect they so desperately needed.

* * *

By mid-afternoon, Castle's eyes were starting to go blurry from staring at the murder board hoping it would speak to him. (Thus far, it hadn't.) He stood, stretched and took a lap around the squad room, wondering briefly how Kate was holding up. He felt for her, he really did. He couldn't imagine being forced to go back to the scene of a parent's murder, but he gave her all the credit in the world for being brave enough to face it.

Back at his desk, he began flipping through the murder file folders hoping to find something that may have been overlooked. For whatever reason, he started with the autopsy report. After skimming Janice's and seeing nothing groundbreaking, he moved on to Melody's. A few minutes into reading he proclaimed, "Oh my god."

"What?" said a voice behind him.

He spun in his chair to see Kate standing beside his desk clutching the strap of her purse and gazing at him curiously. "Kate! Hi!"

"Hi," she echoed then nodded towards the case file. "Find something interesting?"

"Yeah," he said, turning back towards the page. "I…I can't believe I never saw this before." Why hadn't he, he wondered, seen this before? Why hadn't he read that page? Oh, he recalled, because Kate was the one who originally read Melody's file and he never looked over it in great detail. He didn't blame Kate for missing this small fact, of course. Not only was she a novice, but it was buried in the middle of a long autopsy narration; he probably would have had to read it twice before he saw it.

"You wanna share with the class there, Castle?" she prodded.

"Wha—oh sorry!" He turned the file towards her so she could see. "I was looking at Melody's autopsy and I found another anomaly with her case. Not only was she the only victim of the five not to be killed where her body was discovered, but she was the only one not to be discovered within twelve hours of being killed."

"Really?" Kate asked, tucking her hair behind her ears and piercing down at the file.

"Yeah, look here. It says that her time of death was between midnight and one am on May 15th, but her body wasn't discovered until the 16th at six a.m. Another change in the pattern…but why?" he asked to himself. "Why kill her then wait a day to dump the body someplace else, only to go back to the original pattern for—What?" he asked when he looked up and saw Kate's jaw slack and her skin beginning to pale. "What is it?"

She dropped down in to the chair beside his desk and looked at him, her eyes wide. "M-my father. He was killed between midnight and one am on May 15th."

Castle swallowed hard and leaned back in his seat. The wheels in his brain were beginning to spin. "Your father was killed May 15th."

"Yes."

"In the alley where today's victim was found?"

"Yes."

"On the same day as victim number two was killed?"

"Yes," she repeated again, her tone growing quieter each time she said it. For a moment they merely stared at each other before she folded her arms tightly over her body and challenged, "Go ahead. Say it."

He didn't want to say it. He didn't want to think it. Suddenly, he wished he were anywhere else besides his desk.

"Say it!"

"There are no such things as coincidences," he told her factually. "But, Kate-"

He was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. His eyes darted towards the item on his desk and he saw it was Lanie calling. He scooped up the phone and chatted with her efficiently. "She's ready to show us the body," he informed Kate after his call. "Are you sure-"

"Let's go!" She announced before standing quickly and walking towards the elevator.

* * *

Immediately after they entered Autopsy, Lanie began to apologize.

"I'm sorry guys. Really, I am. I wish I could give you something better than this," she said with a defeated sigh as she stood behind sheet-covered Mandy.

"So there's nothing new?" Castle asked. "No prints? No DNA? No clues?"

Lanie shook her head solemnly. "No. Everything is consistent down to the nail polish on the finger, but there's still no trace evidence. Were there any camera's in the alley?"

"Unfortunately not, but, you know, we're looking in to other leads," Castle said, thinking specifically of the newest discovery regarding Kate's father. Lanie nodded, promising to let them know if anything useful came back from the analysis of the victim's clothing.

After thanking her, Castle led the way back out on to the streets. When he glanced back at Kate he saw she was wearing the same blank expression she'd been wearing since they left the Twelfth. "C'mon," he said to her. "Let me buy you a drink."

She looked up to him and shook her head. "No. I'd just like to go home if that's okay."

"Sure," he smiled. "I'll drive you."


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

They rode to her apartment building in silence. The drive was tedious due to the rush-hour traffic so Castle remained focus on the pushy lane changers and constant stop-and-go flow of cars and trucks. He parked in front of her building and walked with her through the entrance. She said nothing to stop him, merely allowed him to follow her all the way up and inside her apartment. Upon entering, his eyes darted towards her desk in the back where the Jasmine Key book still sat on the corner and he thought about how different their day had begun.

"Can I get you something?" he asked her softly. "Dinner? A stiff drink?" he said, trying to keep it light.

She shook her head as she toed off her heels and flopped down on the couch, expression just as blank as ever.

He understood that she needed her space, yet at the same time the case was at a delicate and critical point, so he at least needed to try to get some information from her. He approached the couch and sat on the coffee table in front of it so that he faced her. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and said, "I think it's time for you to tell me about your father's case."

Her head didn't move, but her eyes turned in his direction. "Isn't there a case file for you to read?"

He swallowed and dropped his chin to his chest, looking down at the floor. Of course there was a case file and he had yet to read it, but he didn't want to read what the detective's from oh-three though about the case; he wanted to hear it from her. "Is that what you want me to do?" he challenged, looking up to her from underneath his brow line.

Using her fists against the couch cushions she pushed herself upright and brought her knees up, crossing her lower legs over one another and resting her forearms on her inner thighs. She picked at her right thumbnail for a few moments before an easy smile crossed her face and she looked up at him. "I was always daddy's little girl—even before my mom passed. I had him wrapped around my little fingers. All I had to do was go up to him and smile and say, 'Daddy please? I love you.' And he'd cave just like that," she said snapping her fingers. Castle smiled at her.

"After my mom was gone we were even closer. Yeah, we had some rough patches during my teen years because he wanted me to have a curfew and I, of course, didn't but…we were close. We were always close. I went to college in Boston, but I still took the train home one weekend a month to visit him and of course I came home for holidays and breaks.

"My dad, he…he was kind of an insomniac. He used to work third shift managing one of those all-night gas stations, but after my mom he didn't want me to be alone in the apartment all night, especially when I was only twelve, so he got a new job—regular hours, but he was so used to being up all night and sleeping all day that he couldn't really sleep at night. At least, not for very long.

"Whenever he was really having trouble he would always go for a walk. Not just a little walk, either—he'd walk for blocks. Blocks. In the middle of the night. We lived up on 23rd and he usually kept close by, but I knew sometimes he'd wander further.

"I was, ah," she cleared her throat and ran her fingers through her hair. "I was just finishing up my junior year of school and I was so excited because I'd gotten an internship at the _Times_ for that summer. I must have been up against hundreds of applicants, but I got it and I was just so excited to start. I'd packed up some of my stuff the weekend before and taken it back home on the train so that I only had two suitcases to take with me after my last exam.

"I finished my exam and I called my dad to tell him I'd be home for dinner. He didn't answer and that wasn't unusual because he was at work, but I didn't think anything of it. When…when I got home, there was a detective here waiting for me. Smith, Detective Smith."

When she paused her story, Castle waited. He knew how hard it was for her, so he didn't say anything; he just let her take her time. He could see the emotion on her face as she relived what he knew to be one of the worst days of her life.

"He, uh, he told me to sit down. He told me that he was with the NYPD and that something had happened. He…he told me that my father's b-body had been found in an alley. That is wallet had been taken and that they were able to ID him because he was wearing one of his shirts from work. He…he was stabbed t-three times in the abdomen and he-he died."

She looked up to Castle, tears steadily falling from her eyes as her bottom lip trembled. "He died," she told him. "And he was all I had left."

"Kate," he exhaled, moving from his position on the coffee table to the seat cushion beside her. He put one of his arms around her shoulders and she fell willingly against him, covering her face with her hands, but pressing into his shoulder with her forehead. "I'm sorry," Castle whispered in to the top of her head. "I'm so sorry."

He let her cry against him as he rubbed her back smoothly. He said nothing, but his mind was spinning. This wasn't a coincidence. This could not be a coincidence. Her father was killed around the exact same time as victim two. Victim two's body had been taken from the murder site, hidden for approximately twenty-four hours, and dumped at another location. Ten years later, a victim appears in the alley where her father's body was discovered. A victim killed by the same person as victim two. It wasn't a coincidence.

After several minutes, Kate's sobs began to quiet and her breathing grew steadier. Another minute after that, she stood and excused herself to the bathroom. When she returned, her eyes were still rimmed with red, but her cheeks were dry. She'd pulled her hair back into a ponytail and changed from a button-down shirt into a pullover sweatshirt. She sat back down beside him and examined his face. "Tell me what you're thinking," she said. When he looked over at her she added, "I know you have a theory; I can see it on your face."

He nodded and rotated his body a quarter turn so his shoulder was pressed in to the back of the couch and he was facing her. "Victim two was a change in the pattern. Her body wasn't found where she was killed. In fact, it wasn't found _when _she was killed either. Why? What if the killer was interrupted? Mid-kill or dumping the body what if someone interrupted him? What if your father interrupted him? Your father was a witness—a witness he couldn't risk—so he killed your father and then…"

Castle sighed and dropped his hands to his lap. "I don't know… Possibly the killer realize that if the bodies were found together the police would look for a connection, so he took the girl's body with him."

"But why not just dump it somewhere else that night? Why hold on to it?" Kate challenged.

Castle shook his head. "I don't know, but since he went back to the original pattern it may not matter."

"Sure it does," she said. "What did he do with the body? It makes sense not to leave the bodies in the alley together, because that would be an obvious connection, but why not just carry it a few blocks away? Where did he even take it—hide it—for twenty four hours? Why risk being caught carrying a dead body through the streets twice? How would you even accomplish that? These were full grown women, all well over a hundred pounds."

Castle skimmed his fingers over his chin and considered her words. She was asking all good questions—all questions he was thinking himself. Unfortunately, he didn't have answers. "We need to look closely at these three murders and see if we can figure it out. There has to be a connection. And you realize we're going to have to re-open your father's murder case." As soon as he spoke, she bit down on her bottom lip and turned away from him, staring blankly across her apartment. After a minute he asked, "Kate?"

"No I know," she said, looking back to him. "It's just…all these years I thought it was a random mugging, you know? The crime was never solved and that bothered me for a while but ultimately I made my peace with it because I didn't have a choice. Sometimes a random crime is just a random crime. I had no other choice but to believe it was random and there never would be any closure, but… But I…I _never_ saw this coming."

_Neither did I_, he thought to himself. Scooting closer to her he said softly, "Think of it this way: this guy, Kate, when we catch this guy we'll have cau-"

"No," she cut him off. "Don't say it. Not yet. Not until we're sure."

He nodded his head in understanding. After a minute, he clapped his hands on his knees and stood. "Okay, enough of this for one night. I should go—leave you be."

"Actually," she said, looking up at him, "Could you stay a little longer?"

He sat immediately. "Sure, sure if you want. Do you…Can I do anything for you?"

"No," she sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I just want to sit here." After a minute passed she added, "Castle?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."


	10. Chapter 10

**Ten**

The following morning, Castle had drained his first cup of coffee before he even arrived at the precinct. He could already tell it was going to be one of those running-on-caffeine-only type days, which wasn't much of a surprise considering how little sleep he'd had the night before. He'd stayed with Kate until after ten when she'd fallen asleep on the couch. Then, he returned to his apartment and tried to decompress from the day, but his mind was spinning.

In the blink of an eye, their case had tripled if not quadrupled in importance. Of course catching the man who murdered five women was important, there was no doubt about that, but in Castle's mind the connection to Kate's father's killing escalated things. He needed to figure this out for her and it was very possible that this gigantic break in the pattern was exactly what they needed to find the suspect they were so desperately searching.

Upon arriving at the twelfth, Castle went directly to the captain's office. Normally, he tried to tread lightly, but he also knew that withholding vital information from the C.O. was a one-way ticket to being benched, possibly forever. In certain case, preemptive communication was the way to go; this was one of them.

"Sir," he began, "with regards to the serial killer case."

"Ah yes," the captain said, immediately sitting up straighter in his chair. "Did you ID the latest victim?"

"Not yet, Sir, but I think we may have a new lead. You know the reporter that's been helping me?"

Captain Brown's face softened and he said warmly, "Kate."

"Yeah…well, you see, ten years ago her father was murdered in the same alley where we found yesterday's victim and I believe his murder may be connected to these cases," Castle said.

The captain's eyes widened. "Did…do you know about this before? Did she?"

"No!" he said firmly. "No, Sir, I was with her when we made this connection; her reaction was genuine shock. She had no idea and neither did I."

Castle went on to explain the details of what they'd discovered to the captain and he agreed that the murder of James Beckett needed to be involved in their current investigation. When their conversation was through, he returned to his desk and requested the murder file from the records room before conferring with Ryan and Esposito about his findings.

"Aw man," Esposito sighed with an expression of irritation when Castle's story was through. "Now you made me feel bad for her."

"Don't feel bad for me," said a voice behind him. All three men whipped their heads in the direction of the noise and spotted Kate standing there. "Just let me help you solve this case."

"Kate," Castle began, stepping around the other two detectives and approaching her. He walked close enough to her to lower his voice significantly and continued. "Are you sure about this? Are you sure you want to-"

"I'm fine, Castle," she said, cutting him off with a smile. "Really."

He nodded in agreement, though still was not certain this was the best idea. He understood her wanting to be involved and couldn't blame her for it. If the situation was reversed, he knew nothing would have kept him from investigating the case. At the same time, it wasn't going to be easy for her and he hoped she understood just how distressing their continued investigation could get.

"So what do we look in to now?" Kate asked.

"Well, I requested your father's case file; that should be here sometime later this morning. Ryan and Espo are still trying to ID the vic, right guys?"

"Right," Esposito told her. "Still searching the missing person's reports for an Amanda or Mandy; we're hoping something pops soon."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to keep looking at the girl's financial records; I feel like something has to be there," Kate told him.

"By all means," he said, gesturing towards the large stack of paperwork on his desk. She nodded to him, scooped up the stack, and took her usual position on the chair next to his desk. Castle suggested she take the conference room, which for that moment was empty. She thanked him and disappeared from the main squad room.

Two hour later, after reviewing through the crime scene report from the alley and sitting through a tense staff meeting where their C.O. stressed once again the utmost importance of their casework by liberally sprinkling his speech with the mayor's name, Castle was back at his desk. James Beckett's murder file felt heavy in his hands. The file wasn't very thick, but he knew that once he opened it things would never be the same.

He let the file drop on to his desk pad with a slap. After taking a deep breath, he flipped open the folder and began his review. The first layer of items in the folder was pictures of the crime scene. He noted the familiar alley and the body of the victim much like Kate had described: propped up against the brick wall, several maroon patches dotting his pale blue shirt which read _Todd's Camera Shop_ in black block lettering.

Castle flipped past the photos and moved on to the coroner's report. The official cause of death was organ trauma and exsanguination. The knife wounds had punctured his kidney and liver. Castle shook his head as he read those words; unfortunately, Kate's father's death would not have been quick or painless.

Reading the detectives report was a bit of a surreal experience for him. It read much like Kate had described with Detective Smith reporting their findings at the scene: the lack of wallet and defensive wounds on the hands leading them to believe the crime was a mugging gone wrong and the lack of DNA or trace evidence to lead them to the killer.

Finally, he read the portion of the report where the detective mentioned speaking with the victim's daughter. The detective reported that the daughter informed him of her father's tendency to take long walks in the middle of the night due to his insomnia. This tidbit furthered the belief that James Beckett had been a victim of a random mugging and thus the case was filed away.

After reading the entire file, Castle leaned back in his chair and brought his hands up, clasping them behind his head. He considered what he had read and decided it made sense. If he put himself in Detective Smith's shoes, he would have made the same call. Sometimes a random mugging was just a random mugging, especially with no trace evidence to follow.

"Castle, I think I-" Kate hurried over to his desk but stopped short when she saw the grisly photos spread across his desk.

He bolted upright in his seat and scrambled to cover up all the pictures with the file folder. Once he'd clustered them all together he put both his elbows on top of them and rested his chin on his fists in a childish attempt to pretend like the photos did not exist. "Did you find something?" he asked nonchalantly.

She sank down in the chair beside his desk and asked softly, "Is that my father's murder file?"

He nodded. "But Kate you don't-"

"What does it say?" she asked, her tone barely above a whisper.

He relaxed his shoulders and rested his forearms against the desk. "It's consistent with your story. He was stabbed in the alley and died there. There was no trace evidence, no DNA and the scenario seemed consistent with a random mugging."

She nodded her head, staring down at the folder cover. Then, she looked back up at him, her eyes beginning to show signs of redness.

"I was, ah, going to add his picture to the murder board…unless you'd like to do the honors?" he offered. She shook her head. He lifted the top edge of the file, being careful not to expose too much, and retrieved the DMV photo of the victim, figuring that considering the circumstances it would be unnecessarily cruel to post a crime scene photo.

He tacked the picture of Kate's father above and between victims one and two. Using a black marker, he went to write the name above the picture, but she stopped him midway through. "No," she said. "He went by Jim, not James."

Castle nodded, erased the first name he'd written and corrected it before sitting down. He gave her a sympathetic smile before asking, "Did you, um, find something?"

"Wha-oh! Oh yes," she said, sniffing slightly and pulling a notepad out of her lap. "Remember that coffee shop? The Baker's Bean? Victims one, two, and four went there, but victim three never did? Or, so we thought. It turns out she _did_ go there. Or, at least, she may have gone there."

"Okay?" he asked with curiosity.

Kate displayed her notebook to him and photocopies of several sheets of paper. "We originally only looked at four weeks of history on the girls' purchases, but with Bethany I went back further. Turns out, three months before her death, Bethany went to The Baker's Bean."

"So she'd been there before," Castle said.

"Yes," Kate smiled, "but there's more. I noticed that Bethany's debit card purchases stopped completely four days before her death. Weird, right? So I looked up the statements from her boyfriend. Turns out her debit card number was stolen so she had to close her account and get a new card…except it didn't arrive until _after_ she was killed."

"So in the four days before her death she was only using cash," Castle continued.

Kate nodded. "Right, so she may have gone to The Baker's Bean and just paid cash."

"But," he sighed, leaning back in his chair. "There is no way to prove that."

"Well," she said, smiling soft. "Maybe not prove definitively, but check this out. Bethany doesn't live in Gramercy Park so it makes sense that none of her purchases are around that area. But, when you look at the purchases right before The Baker's Bean, what do you see?"

"Toni's Nails?" Castle said, reading the sheet in front of him.

"Wanna guess where that is?"

"Gramercy Park," Castle responded. She nodded. "Why, Ms. Beckett, I do believe you've just earned your first field interview."

* * *

As they headed south through Manhattan, Castle warned Kate that she should not get her hopes up. The odds of someone at the nail salon recognizing Bethany were very slim. Witness's memory degraded exponentially by time and since several months had passed since Bethany's death it was a long shot at best. But, as Kate pointed out, it was still a shot.

Upon arriving at the salon, Castle flashed his badge and pulled out a DMV photo of Bethany. "You don't happen to recognize this girl, do you? It's probably been a while since she's been in here."

"Wait, I think…isn't this Ashley's cousin? That girl who was murdered?" one of the employees asked another.

"Could be."

"Is Ashley here?" Castle asked.

"She's on her lunch break, should be back in fifteen. Have a seat."

"You wanna get some French tips while you're here?" Kate asked Castle softly once they were seated.

"Funny, but somehow I don't think I could pull that off," he retorted.

While they waited, Castle leafed through a _Good Housekeeping_ magazine while Kate surfed her iPhone. As promised, a young girl with brilliant red hair returned to the salon a quarter hour later. When she entered, Castle stood and presented her with the photo.

"Yeah, that's my cousin Bethany. What's this about? Do you have a lead on her case?" Ashley asked.

"We're not sure. Do you by any chance recall the last time Bethany came here?" Castle asked.

"Of course; I know exactly when," Ashley told them. "The last time she came here to have her nails done was the day she was murdered."


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven**

"This is it," Kate told him as they stood in front of The Baker's Bean. "This has to be it." She took a step towards the café entrance but he stopped her.

"Slow down there Cowboy," he said. "This may not be it."

"How can you say that?" Kate said exasperatedly. "When Bethany had her nails done three months before her death, she visited this café right after. She had her nails done the day she died!"

"And saying she visited this café the day she died is an assumption, not a fact," he said simply. She folded her arms over her chest. "Look, I'm not saying this _isn't_ it. It very well could be the connection between the victims we've been looking for, but we have no proof. What happened at the nail salon was a fluke. Unless Bethany has an aunt or uncle that works here, the odds of someone in this place recognizing her photo are pretty slim."

"Well, we'll never know until we ask," she said before stalking towards the café and whipping open the door with as much force as she could muster.

After following her inside, Castle once again pulled out his badge and the photograph of Bethany. As he suspected, no one working at the café recognized her. Kate began to argue that they needed to show the picture to more people, but fortunately he was able to quell her argument when he received a text from Esposito; they had identified the fifth victim.

By the time Kate and Castle returned to the twelfth, Ryan was speaking with the victim's parents so Esposito filled them on. When her parents awoke and found that Amanda "Mandy" Anderson was not in her bed, they called all of her friends to find out where she was. Apparently, the eighteen year old had argued with her parents after dinner the night before and disappeared shortly thereafter. When they were unable to locate her, they called the police.

"What about the writing on her shoe?" Kate asked.

"Apparently she's been doing that since elementary school," Ryan informed them post-interview.

"Did the parents report seeing anyone suspicious around in the past few days? Anything out of the ordinary?"

"Nope, nada," Esposito said.

"What about The Baker's Bean?" Kate asked. "Has she been there recently?"

Ryan and Esposito exchanged glances. "What's The Baker's Bean?"

"The place where all our victims have been," she explained simply. Castle jumped in to finish the explanation of Kate's findings in Bethany's financials and their findings at the nail salon.

"We'll have to wait for her financials to come in to check it out," Ryan told them before walking back to his desk.

"So," Kate said, turning to Castle. "What's next?"

"Patient waiting," he told her. She gave him a look. "I'm serious. It shouldn't take more than a day to gather her financial information and sometimes you have to do a little waiting. This is a marathon, not a sprint."

* * *

Patient waiting was not exactly one of Kate's strong suits, which was exactly why the following day she arrived at The Baker's Bean shortly before eight a.m., hoping to get a good survey of the breakfast crowd. She purchased a coffee and a muffin and parked herself at a corner table with an easy view of the main entrance. Though her laptop was open in front of her she rarely looked at the screen; her eyes were trained on the parade of customers going in and out of the store.

Kate wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for, she was just hoping she knew it when she saw it. A clue. A lead. Anything out of the ordinary. She needed to find it; she needed it to be there.

The day after her first unsuccessful steak-out, Castle texted her to inform her that Mandy had been at The Baker's Bean two days before her death. He met her at the shop to speak with the owner, who confirmed that there was a security camera on the premises, but they only kept forty-eight hours' worth of footage; the film from the day of Mandy's visit was already gone.

Castle concurred with her that The Baker's Bean was their ground zero, but they still had little to go on. When she suggested putting an officer on the premises he told her they couldn't; the NYPD could not spare that kind of man power on an assignment that might not yield any results. Unsatisfied with this, Kate vowed to continue her steak-outs, knowing that if she had to she would go there every day until a suspect was found.

* * *

Every morning for the next week, Kate religiously arrived at The Baker's Bean just before eight a.m. In that time she tried every variety of home-made muffin they offered and determined the chocolate chip to be her favorite with the banana nut coming in a close second. She pretended as though she was outlining the next Jasmine Key book, but she had scarcely more than three sentences written; her attention was almost exclusively on the door.

On a Tuesday afternoon, a two weeks after her first steak-out day, she exited the bathroom, intent on returning to her usual back corner table, but found it occupied by a man. She instead chose one several feet away next to a window. After pulling her laptop out of her messenger bag and placing it on the table, she glanced back to her usual spot and the blood frozen in her veins.

Seated at the corner table was a man wearing a black hoodie and maroon beanie despite the mild weather of that mid-October day. Judging by the height of his torso in the chair and the length of his arms, it was easy to deduce that he was very tall—over six feet, in fact. He propped up his head with his left palm against his forehead. With his right, he was writing or drawing on something resting on the table.

Kate watched him closely for several moments, trying not to outwardly stare at him, but still watching. A busboy carrying a tray of empty cups stumbled and dumped the china on to the ground causing a loud clatter. The strange man did not flinch or look up from the table; he continued what he was doing.

Her skin crawled at the intensity of his actions. She watched his fingers dart across the page in frantic bursts. The fingers of his left hand clawed into the knit cap, relaxed and then clawed again.

After almost half an hour of watching, waiting for him to look up, she was rewarded when a woman walking a young child towards the bathroom accidentally bumped in to him. The man's head snapped up and his eyes dart around as though he was just realizing he was not alone in the room. Her heat rate quickened when his eyes fell on her and she saw in them a haunting darkness.

He stared at her only for a moment before scanning the room once more and returning to his drawing. Kate's eyes never left him. For the next half hour she stared, hardly daring to blink, wondering if it was possible that he was the one who had taken the lives of five young women and the father that she loved.

Shortly after three p.m. half a dozen girls squealing with laughter entered the shop. Kate couldn't stop herself from glancing towards the door to see what all the fuss was about. Three blonde, two brunette and one redheaded girl stood in line giggling and chattering to each other. Kate guessed them to be high school-aged, probably searching for an after-school caffeine fix.

When she turned back to the mystery man, she noticed an immediate change. He was staring at the girls, his heavy brow furrowed and his lips pursed. He gripped the pencil in his right hand so tightly that his knuckles were white. As she watched him, his lips began to move along with his jaw and she realized he must have been muttering to himself. All the while, his eyes darted between each of the six girls. He examined them as though one would a menu at a fine dining restaurant.

At one of the loudest squeals from the girls, the man stood up so abruptly that his chair tipped backwards and would have fallen had it not been for the wall behind it. He gathered up his notepad and pencil, stalked towards the side door of the shop and disappeared.

* * *

"Kate!" Castle said with surprised when he saw her approaching his desk. It had been over a week since he'd spoken to her, but he decided that he needed to give her space. She was frustrated about the lack of progress in the case and he could understand that. He was frustrated, too, but he'd been doing the job long enough to know that sometimes things did not go the way you wanted them too.

"I think I found him," she said as she dropped in to the chair beside his desk.

"Who?"

"The killer."

"The what?!" he gasped.

"The killer; I think I found the killer," she repeated.

"Wha-how?!" he demanded.

She briefed him on her steak-outs at The Baker's Bean. Though he was glaring at her with disapproval, he listened to her tale. "It's him—it has to be him!"

"But why? What makes you think that?"

"I don't know. It's just a gut instinct."

"Gut instinct?" he repeated.

"Yeah," she said rolling her shoulders as her skin crawled at the memory of his haunted eyes. "He's fuckin' creepy."

"Well, being fucking creepy is not a good enough reason to get a warrant. Though, if it was, we'd solve crimes a hell of a lot faster," he said with a wistful sigh.

Kate leaned forward in her chair and rested her elbows against her thighs. "What if I can get his prints? From the trash? That's legal right? Because its trash."

"Yes but Kate," he sighed and leaned towards her. "I don't want you near this guy. He preys on women and kills them!"

"I'm not his type," she said factually.

He tilted his head. "Kate."

"I'm serious. Hello—brown hair," she said, tugging on her locks. "I'll be fine. I'm just a writer sitting in a coffee shop."

He shook his head. "I'm coming with you."

"No way!" she replied. "You look to cop-y"

He gave her a mocking expression. "I can look not cop-y. Just let me come with you." She shook her head. "Kate."

"How about if I see him, I'll call you?"

"Will you actually call me?" he asked with great suspicion.

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes, Castle, I promise."

Deciding she was being truthful he reluctantly agreed. "Fine, but I don't like this."

"Yes, you've made that clear," she smiled at him.

"Just be careful!"


	12. Chapter 12

**Twelve**

The following day, Kate returned to The Baker's Bean and instead of choosing the table in the corner, she sat at the seat by the window she'd been sitting in when she first saw him. With her laptop open, she focused for most of the day on the shop's entrance, but he never showed. The same thing happened on Thursday of that week. On Friday, she caught a break.

Shortly after one p.m. she spotted him ducking into the shop and her heart rate quickened; this was it. She recalled from the previous time she saw him that he had not purchased a beverage, which did not help her plan of surreptitiously obtaining his fingerprints, and hoped he wouldn't repeat that pattern. Fortunately, his first task upon entering the shop was to pluck a twelve ounce container of orange juice from the cold case and take it to the register.

As he walked past her to his seat of choice, she trained her eyes back on her keyboard, pretending like she wasn't watching him. She'd positioned herself in the seat so that she was facing his table and could thus easily exchange glances between him and her screen without appearing too obvious. She observed as he sat, cracked open his drink, took a few gulps and then laid the pad of paper tucked under his arm on the table.

Once again, he was dressed in a hoodie and knit cap. The same hoodie and knit cap if she was not mistaken. A few strands of shaggy black hair poked out from the hat and hung down over his prominent brow line. Moments after he sat, he pulled out a pencil and opened the notebook.

Remembering her promise to Castle, Kate pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket and texted _He's here_ to him. A minute later her phone vibrated with his responding text. _On my way. Don't do anything stupid._

Ignoring his warning, Kate decided that if nothing else she needed to have pictures of this man—her suspect. With his attention trained on the paper below him, it was easy enough to snap a few shots with the camera on her phone, except they weren't very good ones, because his face wasn't visible. Getting a picture of his face would require a bit more patience.

Kate watched him as he scribbled his pencil across the page. His lips moved frequently, leading her to believe he was talking to himself. She didn't hear any sounds, though, so his conversation must have been internalized. His moves were jerky almost random, but the intensity of his face suggested extreme focus.

Fifteen minutes later, the man had finished his o.j. but showed no signs of getting up to throw it in the trash. Kate drummed her fingertips impatiently against her knee, wondering how she was going to get the bottle from him when an incoming patron of the shop bummed in to her chair. Instinctively she looked up and saw a large, dark-skinned man speaking on his cell phone. He was dressed in a business suit and was gesturing wildly with his hands, clearly having an argument with whoever he was speaking with.

Instead of taking the call outside, he continued it in the shop, plopping down at the table next to Kate's suspect. She cursed under her breath since this mostly obstructed her view of him. Just as she was surveying the room for the next best table, the man in the hoodie brushed past her on his way out the side door. Just before he exited, he dropped his empty drink bottle into the trash.

Kate bolted so quickly from her seat she nearly tripped on the strap of her messenger bag. Scrambling as fast as she could, she slammed her laptop shut and crammed it in the bag. Then, from the side pocket she retrieved a one gallon sized plastic bag, which she placed inside out over her hand. As secretively as she could, using her messenger bag to block her action from the rest of the patrons, she approached the trash can, put her bag-covered hand inside and groped around until she felt her fingers close over the neck of the topmost bottle.

In one swift move, she pulled her hand from the trash can, bottle neck safely trapped between her index finger and thumb. She used her other hand to pull the bag down over the bottle, making sure not to accidentally touch the surface of the bottle in any way. She stepped out of the shop and on to the sidewalk where she tied the top of the bag shut and slipped it into the side of her messenger bag.

She looked up and down the block, wondering where the man in the black hoodie had gone. She spotted him half a block ahead, walking with his head down. Instinctually, she began to follow him, matching her pace with his so that he remained a block ahead. As she walked, she pulled her phone from her pocket and texted Castle the direction she was moving on the street.

Two blocks later she was still following him. He was walking south on Third Ave and she was not going to let him get away. Hugging the inside of the sidewalk, her heart pounded in her chest with every step. She was really doing it; she was going to figure out who he was.

Just as she was about to cross Sixteenth and continue on her quest, someone came up behind her, grabbed her under her left armpit and pulled her down Sixteenth, away from her suspect. She was too stunned to respond verbally at first, but just as she was about to scream, she looked up to see a familiar face.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Castle hissed, still dragging her along with him.

"Hey! Stop! I was-"

"About to get yourself killed? Yeah, I noticed. You're welcome by the way."

"I was not!" she responded childishly, shaking him off her arm. Once they were walking side by side she glared at him. "I had him; I was following him." He scoffed and she continued. "What? I can tail people!"

"No, you can't," he assured her.

Offended, she retorted, "Of course I can!"

He stood in front of her, stopping her progress, and stared her down. "No you can't," he repeated then lifted his left hand to tick off the reasons. "First, you were following way too close. Second, you boots were making way too much noise. Third, you never tail anyone smarter than you."

Her eyes narrowed at his final reason. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

"He's a psychopath!" Castle spat. "He kills people, Kate. Six that we know about!"

She stood up straighter and adjusted the lapels on her trench coat. "I'm not his type," she informed him before stepping around him and continuing down the street.

"Maybe not," he said, following her, "but when you get too close, the rules change. Crazy people are like rabid animals. You can't control them in any environment, but when you back them in to a corner then all hell breaks loose. How do you know he didn't realize you were following him and he was intentionally leading you somewhere where he could kill you?"

"I'm still not his type," she replied.

"Yeah," he said, stepping around her and staring her down once more. "Neither was your father."

For another minute, they glared at each other, both of them fuming. Then, suddenly, Kate plunged her hand into her bag, retrieved the plastic bottle and shoved it in his chest. "Here," she said before stalking around him.

"Why are you giving me trash?" he asked as he examined the bagged bottle.

She whipped around and looked at him. "It's psycho boy's bottle. I picked it out of the trash with that baggie. Think you can get some prints or DNA off it?"

* * *

Twenty minutes later, after a silent and frosty ride in his squad car, they dropped the bottle off at the police crime lab. Castle made sure the techs knew to rush the prints as quickly as they could before following Kate back out on to the street.

"I guess I owe you an apology," he said. "I was out of line and I'm sorry."

She looked over at him, her gaze softening for the first time in half an hour. "No, you were right. I wasn't thinking about where he could lead me, only that if I followed him I'd be able to ID him somehow."

"Actually, I'm kind of impressed." He smiled at her. "What you did was stupid, yes, but most people would have gotten the hell outta there after they got the bottle. Actually, most people wouldn't have even stuck around that long. I guess you deserved that Pulitzer."

"Uh, thanks?"

"You're welcome. But seriously—what you did was stupid. He could have made you."

She dropped her eyes to the ground. "I know."

"Just be careful from now on, okay? It'd kinda suck if something happened to you."

She looked up and saw a smirk on his face and rolled her eyes. "Your concern is touching."

With a prod smile he rocked back on his heels and then gestured towards his vehicle. "C'mon," he said, "I'll drive you home."

"How long do you think it'll take to get the results from the bottle?" Kate asked once they were in the car.

"A day or two, hopefully less," he informed her. After a minute of silence he continued. "Can I ask you something kinda random?"

"Okay?"

"Why do you authors use such weird-ass names for people? Crispin. Falcon. Macyn. Who is actually named that? Seriously. Have you ever met one person named Falcon?"

She paused for a moment, trying to process the randomness of his query. Her mind spun for a connection. Macyn Drake was the lead character in _Chasing Down Love_. Falcon was the first of her lovers. "You…" she began as she glared across the car at him. "You stole my book!" _Chasing Down Love_ wasn't being released until the first week in November; he must have taken a copy from her apartment.

"Borrowed," her clarified. "I borrowed it. You can have it back when I'm done—it's not like I'm gonna read it twice."

"Castle!"

"Seriously," he continued, ignoring her heated tone. "The sex isn't even that hot. I mean, it's kinda hot, but I've had hotter."

She shook her head and rested her elbow against the door and her fist against her temple. "Unbelievable."

"What?" he asked, glancing over to her. "Are you mad? Why are you mad at me?"

Incredulously, she gaped at him. "Are you kidding me? You just insulted my writing, you ass!"

"See, that's exactly my point," he said recalling the conversation they began a few weeks prior, but never really completed. "Why do you write this stuff? You're so much better than it! Your news stories are incredible. So you want to write fiction? Great! But why this? Why…cheesy novels?"

"They pay the bills; sue me," she explained with a shrug.

"That's not the real reason," he said. Then after a beat he added, "You wanna know what I think?"

"No," she replied, "but you're going to tell me anyway, aren't you?"

They were half a block from her building, so he waited until the car was parked by the sidewalk before turning to her. "I think that you're scared. You would write more stores, real stories, but you're afraid they won't get published or that they will and no one will like them. That's why you publish under a pen name. Even if no one likes the story, it's not like they don't like you, because unlike reporting, fiction is much more personal to write."

He paused and considered her for a moment. "You wrote for the college newspaper…no, high school. You probably wrote for the college one too, but this had to have happened earlier. You wrote a story that people made fun of. Or maybe if wasn't for the newspaper. Maybe it was for a creative writing class. You wrote a real piece of fiction and people didn't like it. Even as one of the popular kids you weren't immune to the cruelties of your peers, were you Kate? So you decided to never open yourself up like that again. Hence the pen name and the fantasy stories."

She stared at him, unmoving except for the flair of her nostrils with each heavy exhale. It was actually downright alarming how close to being accurate his explanation was, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. Narrowing her eyes she spoke in a low voice, "You just think you're so smart, don't you Castle?"

He gave a rather cocky shrug of his shoulders before turning his gaze out the front windshield. "You're wrong, you know."

"What?" she hissed.

He turned back to her. "You're wrong. You think that any real piece of fiction you write will be rejected, but that's not true. I'm certain anything you write would be amazing, Kate, because you are—amazing."

She stared at him for another moment, feeling the peculiar feeling of fluttering in the back of her throat, the top of her chest. It was suffocating, intoxicating and, before she knew it, she'd leaned forward, grabbed his face with both of her hands and smashed her lips in to his.

She pulled back a moment later, took one look at the shocked expression on his face, and felt hers flood with crimson. "I, uh, I….thanks for the ride," she stammered before clawing at the handle of the passenger side door. She grappled with it a moment before yanking it open and sliding towards the exit only to realize she was still buckled in her seat. She popped the button on the belt and stumbled out of the car onto the sidewalk, never once looking back.


	13. Chapter 13

**Thirteen**

The next morning, Castle sat at his desk at the twelfth staring at the empty chair beside it thinking the same thing he'd though all night long: she kissed him. He couldn't believe she kissed him.

Was he attracted to her? Sure. He was male and had eyes. Had he thought about kissing her? It had crossed his mind, but certainly not in that particular moment as they were actively arguing.

He wasn't complaining—not by any means—simply curious as to why she had kissed him. It was spur of the moment, obviously, but he wondered what it meant for their working relationship. Then again, he decided, sometimes a kiss was just a kiss and nothing more. To be on the safe side, though, he decided not to text her or call her until he had definitive results from the orange juice bottle they'd dropped off at forensics.

The results did not come in until the following morning when, much to his utter delight, not only were fingerprints found, but the mystery man identified. "Got you, you son of a bitch," he muttered to himself upon opening the email. He texted Kate immediately: _Got him._

_Be there in 20_ she responded.

In the meantime, Castle pulled together the information they had available on the mystery man from The Baker's Bean. He also informed his team that there would be a staff briefing at ten a.m. Hopefully Kate would arrive by then; he didn't want her to miss it. After all, if it hadn't been for her stubborn steak-out, they would never have found that lead.

When Kate arrived at the precinct, she pushed her way through the detectives gathering in the squad room for the meeting. "You found him? You IDed him?" she asked excitedly as she approached Castle.

"Indeed we did—thanks to you," he told her with a grin. Then, after calling the attention of everyone in the room, he began his presentation.

"Andrew Zelman," Castle announced, tacking a picture of the hoodie-wearing creeper from the coffee shop up on the murder board, "is now a person of interest in this case.

"Thanks to the due-diligence of very savvy reporter Kate Beckett we were able to obtain Zelman's prints from a bottle he discarded at The Baker's Bean. Each of our victims visited the same café within a few days of their death; it is the only connection we've found between them. Zelman's background fits the pattern of our murders.

"He has a juvi record, but its sealed. In 2003 at the age of twenty-two he was arrested for aggravated assault and assault with a deadly weapon. His arrest came just three weeks after the discovery of victim two—Melody Timbers. He was sentenced to eight years, served six and a half, was out two weeks, violated his parole and went back in prison. His sentence was extended after he assaulted a guard on the inside. He was released on June 30th, three weeks before victim three—Bethany Landon—was murdered."

"So what makes him a suspect?" Esposito asked.

"He's not a suspect, he's a person of interest," Castle clarified. "And our new priority. I want to know everything about this guy. Where he grew up. Where he went to school. Who his friends were. Did he have any friends? If he ever strangled a puppy I want to know about it."

After he dismissed the meeting, Kate approached him and asked, "Can we get a warrant?"

Castle shook his head. "No, it's not enough. There is nothing to tie him to any of the girls—not right now."

"But the coffee shop!" Kate insisted.

"Circumstantial. The person of interest and the victims lived in the same neighborhood along with thousands of other people."

"Can't we at least question him?" she asked, desperate to find a reason to confront him.

Castle shook his head again. "Not yet. I want to know everything about this guy before we question him. I don't want to spook him too soon; this case needs to be air-tight. C'mon—I'll show you what I found."

After they were back at his desk, Castle rotated his computer screen to show her the criminal profile of Andrew Zelman. "You were right, Kate," he began. "Remember when we first started looking in to this and you wanted to look at ex-cons—you brought me that list. You were on the right path."

"But Zelman wasn't on my list," she said factually.

"Right, but only because your parameters were a little off. You were searching for someone who had been in prison for ten years consecutively, but Zelman was in an out of prison over ten years."

"Okay…so you said he was sentenced for aggravated assault, right? Was the victim a woman?"

He shook his head and ran his fingers over his chin. "No. Looking at the report it just looks like he was drunk and provoked in a bar. The victim was a thirty-eight year old man who suffered a concussion and needed over two dozen stitches when Zelman was done with him."

"So we can't tie him to the victims from that case," she concluded sadly.

"'fraid not," Castle said. Then he reached his right hand over and dropped it on top of hers. "Don't worry, Kate; we're gonna get this guy."

* * *

Nowhere. They were nowhere. Weeks went by and no connections had been found between Zelman and any of the five victims much to the frustration of the detectives and their companion reporter.

Castle and his team searched tirelessly through all of Zelman's history, but everything ended up at a dead end. They discovered that ten years prior he lived in a building just above the alley where Jim Beckett, Melody Timbers and Mandy Anderson were killed, which explained how he was able to stash Melody's body for twenty-four hours after the murder.

Unfortunately, that was the only useful connection they were able to make. Granted, their search was interrupted very shortly after it began due to a bombing in the financial district. Due to suspected terrorist activity, it was an all-hands-on-deck situation. In the end, it was discovered that the bomb was a product of a disgruntled employee who had researched bomb making on the internet. By the time they returned to the Zelman case it was as cold as ever.

Though she continued to search, it was clear Kate was losing hope as well. "It's obvious he just uses the coffee shop to find his vic and then he just stalks her until he kills her," she concluded one dreary November afternoon.

"He's going to slip up, Kate," Castle promised her.

"Before another girl is killed?" she responded. "Up until now he's worked practically like clockwork. Each victim has been almost exactly six weeks after the other, save the ten year break, but it's been seven since Mandy's murder."

Castle sighed, clasped his hands together and rested them on his desk. "Keep in mind that I'm not blaming you when I say this, but it's possible you spooked him. You followed him and he might have realized it. Maybe he's…I dunno. Laying low?"

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Do psychos lay low?"

He shrugged. "How should I know? I'm not one of them."

She sighed and leaned back in her chair, staring distantly at the murder board as she often did when she visited the precinct. Granted, the serial killer board was now the archived murder board. A newer board was used for the more active cases they had going on. Their board was pushed back against a wall along the side of the room.

Castle studied her face for a moment, trying to pick the words in his head before he let them leave his mouth. "Listen, next week is Thanksgiving and I was wondering….well, I was wondering if you had any plans?"

She looked over to him. "Plans?"

"Yeah, plans. Specifically, I was wondering if you wanted to come with me to my mom's for Thanksgiving."

He'd been thinking about it for quite some time; the invite just seemed like a natural thing to do. Ever since she kissed him, things had been different between them. Not good, not bad, not weird; just different. Sometimes, he felt she was holding herself at arm's length, other times, she felt like she was drawing closer to him and he wanted a chance to find out for sure.

When his mother called him to settle their holiday plans, he immediately thought of Kate. He knew that both her parents were gone and was unsure if she had any other family. The thought of her spending a holiday alone in her apartment made him too sad, so he decided to invite her, unsure what her reaction would be.

She blinked at him. "You want me to have Thanksgiving with you and your mom?"

"Well, yeah, but it wouldn't be just us. My step-father and step-brother would be there, too. He's a weird dude, my step-brother, but his wife is pretty nice. And they have two kids."

"So," she began slowly, "this would be, like, your family Thanksgiving. And you want me to go?"

"Sure. I mean, do you have any other plans?"

"Well, Captain Brown did ask if I wanted to run away with him…but this sounds like a better choice," she finished with a smile.

He laughed. "Glad to hear it."


	14. Chapter 14

**Fourteen**

On Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, Kate met Castle at the precinct shortly before three p.m. as per his instructions. He was finishing up paperwork so she sat and waited with her overnight bag in her lap. According to Castle, it was impossible to get the full Rodgers-Feinman family dynamic without being there for all of Thanksgiving Day, which meant that they needed to arrive the night before.

Once all his paperwork was in order, Castle wished a happy holiday to his colleges, grabbed his own duffle bag, and headed out with Kate. They walked to the nearest subway station and boarded the F train to Brooklyn.

"In case I forget to say it," Kate told him once they were seated on the southbound train, "Thanks for inviting me."

"You're welcome," he smiled at her. He gazed over at her for a moment before asking gently, "Do you have any family left, Kate?"

She looked down at her lap and shook her head. "Not really. When my father died, my grandmother—my maternal grandmother—was still living, but she passed a few years ago. I have an uncle on my father's side, but he's lived in Texas since I was a toddler so I never really knew him." She glanced up to him and sighed. "Don't give me that look, Castle."

"What look?"

"That 'Oh she had no family so she must be lonely' look. I'm fine," she promised him.

"Well, yeah," he said in an isn't-it-obvious tone. "You're rich."

Her jaw dropped slightly. "I'm not rich!"

"You're not poor."

"Well, no," she said with a slight laugh, "but I don't think I'd call myself rich."

"Tell that to your Jimmy Choo's," he muttered.

She rolled her eyes and ignored his comment. After a minute of silence she asked, "So your step-brother—is he your age?"

"Three years older," he informed her.

"So are you close?"

He let out a bark of laughter. "Um, no. Elliot is a total freak."

"Castle!"

"He is!" he insisted, turning to face her. "He's a forensic accountant and he likes it! Ugh," he added with a shiver.

"So I guess that means he's not cool enough for you?" she asked mockingly.

"Well that goes without saying," Castle responded. Again, she rolled her eyes. "But I mean, its not like we grew up together—we were already adults by the time our parents got married so we just learned to play nice at holidays. His kids don't even call me 'Uncle.'"

"How long ago did your parents get married?" she asked.

"Well, let's see," he paused, letting his eyes drift towards the ceiling as he thought. "Meredith and I were married in ninety-nine and they probably got married two years after that. So since oh-one I guess? They actually met at my wedding. Joe was the manager of the banquet hall where we had the reception."

"Really?" Kate smiled with amusement.

"Yeah. His wife had died a year or so before so he was just starting to get back out there. My mom hadn't really dated either and they just kind of clicked I guess. He's a really good guy and I know he really loves my mom and he makes her happy, which is all that matters."

"Yeah it is," she smiled at him.

"Did…did your father ever date?" he asked.

"A little bit," she told him. "The first time I knew about him dating someone was when I was seventeen. If he did it before that he either hid it well or I was too much in my own teenage world to notice. He had a pretty serious girlfriend when I first started college and she was okay I guess. I wasn't around her much, but they ended up breaking up and then…" She let her voice drift off; her father's untimely death went without mention.

Castle nodded. "It's weird, right? Your parent dating."

She scrunched up her nose and nodded. "Yeah it kinda is. So, um, you said your step-brother is married, right?"

"Yes to Claire. You're really going to like her; she's such a sweetheart. She's a pre-school teacher and she's just real laid-back and down to earth. And then they have a boy and a girl—Hannah—is five and EJ—short for Elliot Junior—is three."

Kate nodded, mentally filing away all that information for when she met them. "Are you good with kids, Castle?"

"Uh, no," he said with a laugh. "Well, I mean, I guess I'm not terrible. I'm pretty good with Hannah because she's old enough now that we can talk about stuff, but with the little ones…" he shrugged helplessly. "I just don't know what to do with them or say to them. Like what am I gonna tell them? All about the gruesome bodies I found. Newsflash: parents kind of get upset if you tell their young children about murders."

Kate chuckled, knowing that comment came from his own experience. "So you're one of those who panics around babies, aren't you?"

"Actually," he said proudly, "infants I can do. As long as they're completely immobile, I'm fine."

"Really?" she asked with utmost surprised. He nodded proudly. She merely smiled and turned away, thinking to herself that she would pay money to watch him handle a screaming infant.

The remainder of their ride was mostly silent, but not uncomfortably so. They got off the train about twenty minutes later and made their way to the Rodgers-Feinman home located in a nice Brooklyn neighborhood. The air was crisp, but not too cold yet so their walk was pleasant. Castle's mother and step-father lived in one side of a duplex on a street filled with children playing, happy to have a few days off school.

Once they arrived, Castle introduced Kate to his step-father Joe and his mother, Martha. "It's so nice to finally meet you, Kate; Rick has told me so much about you," Martha gushed, pulling Kate in to an immediate hug.

"Oh," Kate said with a slight laugh. "Good things I hope."

"No they were mostly bad," Castle smiled, taking her luggage and disappearing with it up the stairs.

"Now, Kate, Darling, can I get you a glass of wine?" Martha said, placing an arm around the younger woman and leading her in to the back of the house. Once in the kitchen she added, "It is practically a holiday, you know."

"Sure, whatever you have is fine," Kate told her with a smile.

Martha poured her a healthy glass of red and passed it over before gesturing for her to sit at the kitchen table. "I just have to tell you that I recently read your book and I absolutely loved it!"

"My book?" Kate asked, swallowing her wine with a heavy gulp.

"Yes! _Chasing Down Love_," Martha said, clutching her chest dramatically.

"Oh…Ca-Rick told you about that? He wasn't supposed to," she said with a nervous laugh, making a mental not to yell at him for that later.

"Oops," Castle said innocently as he entered the kitchen and poured himself a scotch. "Eh, she's not going to tell anyone, are you Mom?"

"Secrets safe with me-"

"And all of Brooklyn," Castle muttered into his drink.

"-but Kate, really, the book was sensational!"

"Oh," she said, her cheeks turning pink, "thank you."

"Seriously—I loved it. In fact," she smiled, reaching behind her to take her husband's hand. "It gave us some inspiration!"

"Oh, well, isn't that disgusting," Castle interjected. "Thanks, Kate, for helping my mother have great sex."

"Anytime," she said before taking another gulp of wine.

"Listen kids, Elliot called and said he's having trouble getting out of the office so they won't be here for a little while yet. Why don't you just go into the den and make yourselves comfortable," Joe told them.

Castle led the way in to the adjoining room, which put her modern Manhattan apartment to shame. The den came complete with shag carpeting and walls covered in wood paneling as well as furniture circa the nineteen-eighties. "There really is no defense to this room," Castle said with a sigh when they entered. "It's like the time capsule from hell."

"It's not that bad."

"It's horrible," Castle told her. "Joe's lived in this place since the eighties obviously and when Mom moved in here she tried to redecorate but he wouldn't let her touch this room—said it was nostalgic."

Kate nodded as she surveyed the space. Cradling her wine, she walked to the other side of the room where, behind the television, there was a wall of shelves covered in family photos. She saw many of the same dark-haired boy growing up and assumed this to be Elliot. On the lowest shelf there was a picture of Joe and Martha on their wedding day. Behind that photo, there was one even more interesting.

"Oh my god," she exclaimed, gently picking up the picture of Castle on his wedding day. "This is Meredith?" The red-head was cute, she had to admit, but she was not a fan of the wedding dress; the beading and design were far too gaudy for her taste. Mostly, she was just stunned by how baby-faced Castle was. Then again, it made sense considering he was only around nineteen in the picture.

"Oh god," he groaned, walking over behind her so he could see the photo. "I really wish they'd take that down. I keep asking, but Joe likes it since it was the day he met Mom."

"You were cute back then. What happened?" she teased as she replaced the photo.

He gave her an unappreciative look. "Funny. You realize that now you have to show me photos of you from when you were younger."

"Hmm…we'll see," she said with a side-glance in his direction before continuing to explore the room.

An hour and a half later, Kate and Castle were still sitting in the den talking when the noisy arrival of more guests drew their attention to the front of the house. Kate spotted a slender, dark-haired man with glasses resembling the small boy in the den photos and assumed this to be Elliot. His wife was a shorter, rounder woman with dark hair and a distinct Brooklyn accent. Their daughter wore a denim jumper with a striped shirt underneath, her hair spilling in ringlets all over her shoulders, and their son, dressed in a sweater and black pants, squirmed in his father's arm.

As the introductions were made, Claire gasped, "Oh my gawd! You're the girl that writes those dirty books!"

Kate let out a nervous laugh before shooting a glance in Castle's direction. He slunk into the kitchen as she wondered just how many people he had told about her alter ego. "Yeah," she said, "that's me. I'm also a reporter at the _Times_."

"Don't worry Dear," Claire said, patting Kate's arm. "Ricky told us all about your Pulitzer too. I just happen to think those books are way better than the news!"

"Well I find your pieces very interesting," Elliot told her. "I've enjoyed following your series on the murders of those poor young women."

"Yeah we're gonna catch that son of a bitch one of these days," Castle added.

"Rick!" Claire hissed, covering her daughter's ears.

Castle cringed and turned towards the rest of the group. "Let's eat, shall well?"

* * *

All throughout dinner Kate was regaled with story after story from the blended family, most of them utterly hysterical. At one point, she could hardly see from the tears of laughter filling her eyes. Of course, she found the most entertainment in the stories that came at Castle's expense. Mostly, she enjoyed watching him interact with his family, particularly the little girl. After his cursing faux pas, she had expected him to be more the "Pull my finger" uncle, but he wasn't at all. He asked her about her school and gave her very animated responses that had her giggling uncontrollably in her seat.

They continued to sit at the table long after their meal was over, drinking wine and chatting about dozens of topics. After Elliot and Claire left so they could put their children to bed, Kate helped with the clean up until she was shooed away by Martha, who insisted that guests didn't need to clean. Instead, she went into the main sitting room and reflected on the atmosphere she'd just been a part of. It had been so long since she'd experienced the family dynamic, she'd almost forgotten what it was like.

"Hey," Castle said from behind her.

She turned and smiled at him. "Hey."

"You okay? They didn't completely overwhelm you, did they? I know they can be kind of…loud."

"No," she said, shaking her head and smiling. "No they were great. I'm just…I guess I'm just a little tired."

"Oh well then by all means let me show you to the guest room," he said, smiling. He led the way up the stairs and into the first bedroom on the left. The room was small, but cozy, decorated with ample peach tones. It held a double bed with two end tables and a small chair in the corner. She noticed her suitcase was sitting beside the chair.

"So, uh, the bathroom's down the hall. There are plenty of fresh towels in there but the closet beside it has more if you need them. If you need anything el…what are you doing?" he asked her. As he'd been giving his run-down, she'd walked over to the bedroom door, shut it, and leaned back against it, staring at him with a most curious expression.

She pushed herself off the door and approached him as though a lioness would a gazelle on the Savannah. "You're the detective," she purred, her voice barely above a sexy whisper. "Why don't you figure it out?"

She stopped just in front of him, wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a sound kiss. Instinctually, his hands found her waist and he pulled her hips against his. When their lips broke apart he began, "Kate, I," but she cut him off.

"Shhh," she breathed, lightly shoving him towards the bed. He landed with the soft squeak of the mattress and she followed a moment later, entangling her lips with his once more.


	15. Chapter 15

**Fifteen**

"You know what has never made sense to me?" Kate asked.

"Hmm?" Castle grunted from his position on the couch beside her. On that frigid December evening the two of them were plenty warm on her couch with a shared blanked draped over their laps. In the prior few weeks—ever since the night of Thanksgiving Eve—they had hardly spent a night apart.

Castle had no idea what sparked their sudden change in relationship status, but he certainly wasn't going to question it. When they awoke on Thanksgiving morning he was afraid she would regret their night of passion, but she showed no signs of doing so. She happily watched the Macy's parade with him and helped his mother prepare the side dishes for their meal. When the day was over and he walked with her back to her apartment, she invited him inside and thanked him (both verbally and physically) for giving her the best holiday she'd had in a long time.

He quickly found that the more time he spent around Kate, the more he wanted to be around her. He loved making her smile and making her laugh. He loved running case theories though with her and the way she rolled her eyes at him every time he threw out an outlandish one. Though they had yet to discuss the official status of their relationship, he was happy just being in the moment with her.

"The nail polish," Kate said.

Castle looked up to her from the case file he was reading. "Huh?"

Kate sat up and tucked her feet underneath her. "In the serial killer case—the nail polish was always so perfect. That seems odd, right?"

"Uh, I guess?"

"Yes, Castle, c'mon it's totally weird." When she fished her sentence, she hurried quickly away from the couch and into the bathroom. He watched her, curiously, as she returned with a small bottle in her hands. "Here," she said, passing it to him. "Paint my finger nail."

"Why…?" he asked slowly.

"Just do it," she insisted, holding out her left hand to him.

With a shrug, he took the bottle of midnight blue polish, unscrewed the cap and began to brush the paint on her nail. His first swipe went horribly awry, resulting in half of the paint getting on her skin. With renewed focus, he approached the second swipe with a bit more caution, though still managed to get some on her skin. When he was done, the paint was globed unevenly on most of her finger.

"Wow," she said, examining his work. "That's actually worse than I thought it would be."

He gave her an irritated look. "So I'm not an experienced manicurist. Let me try another, okay?"

That time, he held her hand steady with his left as he painted her middle fingernail with his right. His concentration resulted in a much better attempt, though he still managed to get a bit of polish on her skin.

"See," she said, wiping to polish off with a tissue, "that's exactly my point. Now, imagine if you had just killed someone in the dark and you had to perfectly paint one of their fingernails. That'd be really hard, right?"

"Well, yeah, but you said when you saw this Zelman guy he was drawing, right? So he's artistic. That has to help some."

"Yeah, but he'd still be working in the dark."

"No, I know. I agree with you that it's odd, I'm just trying to come up with a reason," he said.

"All of the nail painting he did was practically perfect…and then I was thinking about the third vic with the missing polish and I thought that maybe he always had polish and polish remover with him so that way he could paint and then remove whatever paint he got on the skin right away, making sure each nail looked perfect."

Castle scoffed. "Gee, with all that dedication I'm surprised we didn't find employment at a nail salon in Zelman's history."

"That would be too easy," Kate told him with a wink. "C'mon it's time for bed."

He glanced at his phone and his brow furrowed. "Its nine o'clock." She gave him a look. "Ohhh…that kind of bed." He stood and followed her. Once they were in the bedroom he asked, "Can I ask you something that might potentially make you mad?"

"Oh, by all means," she said with notable sarcasm, folding her arms over her chest.

"Well," he began cautiously. "I was just wondering what the odds were of you reenacting a scene from one of your books with me."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "That depends. What book? What scene?"

Castle smiled. Ever since Thanksgiving he'd made it a point to spend any time away from her reading her books. Well, skimming them and reading only the sex scenes hoping for a moment just like that one to arise. "In _Dying for Love_ when Jade and Michel bang each other senseless in the law firm's library."

She tiled her head to the side. "How would we do that?"

"Well, I was thinking instead of a law firm we could do it at the Twelfth. Up against the murder board," he beamed then added a naughty eyebrow wiggle.

"In the middle of the squad room? Yeah, because no one would notice that."

"Captain Brown wouldn't mind," he pointed out.

"Castle."

"What about in a closet?"

"NO!"

"C'mon," he whined. "That scene was really hot! Especially when Michel found out Jade didn't have any panties on."

"Oh well," she said, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, "that part may be able to be arranged."

Later that night, Castle was abruptly woken up by the shrill ring of his iPhone. He groped on the nightstand for it and answered without looking at the caller ID. Within a minute, he sat bolt upright in bed and insisted that the caller text him the address; he would be right there.

"Castle?" Kate mumbled sleepily. "What's goin' on?"

"Get up," he told her. "He struck again—and she's still alive."

* * *

It was just before two a.m. when Castle and Kate arrived at the murder scene. Ryan and Esposito were either too tired or too focused to comment on the fact that they arrived together; Castle chose to see that as a blessing in disguise. "What happened?" he asked them.

"Our witness, a one Ronald Goldman, was walking home down third when he saw a girl walking up ahead. He then witnessed a man jump out and attacked her. Ronald screamed and the attacker fled but not after putting a significant cut in the girl's throat. They took her to Beth Israel; she's still in surgery," Esposito explained.

"Can Goldman ID the attacker?" Kate asked.

"No, it was too dark. All he said was that the guy was wearing a hoodie and he looked tall. But he did leave behind a present," Esposito smiled, holding up an evidence bag with a large knife inside.

"The murder weapon," Kate and Castle said in unison.

"You got it. We're going to have forensics test it to see if they can prove it matches the wounds in our other vics."

"Okay," Castle said, trying to wrap everything up at the scene before they all froze to death in the frigid December air. "As always, check the scene for any DNA evidence or cameras. He may have slipped up this time since he was interrupted."

"We need to contact The Baker's Bean," Kate told him. "If they only keep their security tapes for forty-eight hours, we need to see if the latest victim is on them before they get erased."

Castle nodded. He had not thought of that initially, but she was one hundred percent correct. "Well spotted, Ms. Beckett. The Baker's Bean doesn't open for about four hours, so we've got some time. Want me to take you home?"

She grinned. "Not a chance."

"Great. Then let's go to Beth Israel and see if we can get an update on the vic."


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: Thank you guys so much for all the great reviews! I really appreciate them all! :)**

* * *

**Sixteen**

At the hospital, they found that the surgeons were still trying to repair the damage done to the arteries in the victim's neck, so they were unable to speak with her. Their visit was not a total waste, though, because they were able to retrieve her purse, which contained her driver's license. Their latest victim was Sophie Turner, a twenty-five year old woman living in the Gramercy Park area, just like most of the other victims.

Castle and Kate remained at the hospital until they received word that the victim had made it through the surgery. Unfortunately, due to the great deal of blood she lost, her heart stopped at one point during the procedure. They were able to revive her, but the doctor informed them it would be quite some time before she was conscious enough to speak with them.

They reconvened briefly with Esposito and his partner only to find that, just like all the other murder sites, this one had no DNA evidence and no video surveillance. With renewed determination, they headed directly to the Bakers Bean, wanting to make sure they were there precisely when the shop opened. Since they did not have a warrant (and given their lack of evidence it seemed unlikely they could get one) Castle was hoping to charm his way into viewing the video footage.

Twenty minutes after they arrived they were standing in the cramped manager's office at the Baker's Bean reviewing the footage, beginning with the earliest on record forty-eight hours earlier. They watched the footage on fast-forward, but it still took nearly half an hour before Kate shouted, "There! Stop!"

"Is that him? Zelman?" Castle asked. The café's surveillance camera was an older model, so the footage was not the best quality. On the screen, he could see a tall figure wearing a dark hoodie and knitted cap exiting the shop. "Run it back," he asked the manager.

The footage rewound at normal speed and they watched the figure back his way in to the building, in doing so, showing part of his face to the camera. The manager paused the video. "That's definitely Zelman," Castle said. "Keep rewinding."

The manager did as he was asked and within a few seconds a young blonde girl backed into view. "Stop!" Kate and Castle shouted simultaneously. Kate squinted at the grainy image. "That could easily be Sophie."

"I agree. Can we please take this tape back to our lab?" he asked the manager then turned to Kate. "They may be able to enhance to footage to help prove her identity."

"And if they can?" Kate asked. "Is it enough for a warrant?"

"It may be, it may not be," Castle told her, "but I'm sure as hell going to try."

* * *

It took the techs at the precinct almost two hours to improve the video footage enough to get two still photographs from it: a blonde girl strongly resembling their victim and a tall, knit-cap wearing man. In the meantime, they were able to review The Baker's Bean's purchase records for the time shortly before the timestamp on the video footage. The shop had record of a tall, skim latte ordered by a "Sophie" six minutes before she appeared on the video. Unfortunately, the customer had paid cash, but the barista working at the time confirmed that their victim Sophie resembled the girl who purchased the coffee.

Castle complied all the evidence they had and reviewed it with Captain Brown who agreed that it was finally enough to request a warrant for Anthony Zelman. With his whole body buzzing from excitement, Castle phoned the district attorney. Unfortunately, that feeling quickly faded during the phone call.

"What?" Kate asked when he slammed his desk phone back down into its cradle. "What is it?"

"It's not enough," he growled. "The DA said the picture of him leaving the café isn't enough to arrest Zelman."

Kate's stomach flipped as she leaned back into her chair. "So what does that mean?"

"We can't arrest him."

"Right, got that. What _can_ we do?"

"We can question him, but only if he's willing to talk with us," Castle said.

"Or," Esposito said, rolling his chair over to them. "You can hope he's a runner."

"A runner?" Kate questioned.

"If he sees the police coming and he runs then we can arrest him for that. We couldn't charge him with murder, but we can bring him in and see if he cracks," Castle explained.

"So let's do that!" Kate said.

"If we're going to try to spook him, we've gotta make it big," Castle told him.

"You got it, Bro," Espo responded.

* * *

From their research in to Zelman, they knew he ran a forklift in a warehouse not too far from Gramercy Park. With Castle and Kate in his cruiser, Esposito and Ryan in theirs, and one patrol car, they paraded through the streets, lights and sirens blaring. They parked haphazardly in front of the warehouse, completely blocking the dock entrance, and spilled out of their vehicles. As per Castle's instruction, Kate was to wait behind until they made sure Zelman wasn't armed in any way.

When they entered the warehouse, the manager met them at the door, questioning why they were there. Castle told him they were in search of Anthony Zelman and pushed past him before he could ask for a warrant. With Esposito and Ryan flanking him, Castle made his way towards the sole forklift in the warehouse, staring directly in to the dark eyes of their suspect.

"Anthony Zelman," he said loud enough to be heard above the rumble of the forklift's motor. "We have some questions we'd like to ask you."

Zelman considered them for a moment, tiling his head left, then right before shutting off the forklift and stepping down off of it.

"Mr. Zelman my name is Detective Rodgers and I have some questions for you," Castle said, flashing his badge. "Mr. Zelman, this photograph is from a surveillance camera outside The Baker's Bean. It was taken two days ago at one fifteen in the afternoon. Can you confirm that this is you in this photograph?"

Zelman glanced briefly at the photo Castle head, looked back up to him and shrugged.

"I'm going to need you to answer yes or no," Castle said, his stern interrogation voice unwavering.

"I don't know," Zelman said. Castle was almost startled at how light and airy his voice sounded, almost as though he was speaking from a dreamlike state. "It's a bad picture."

"Can you tell us your whereabouts at one fifteen pm on Tuesday?" Castle asked, referring to the day the surveillance image was taken. Zelman said nothing. "What about your whereabouts over night? Where were you between one and two am this morning?" Again, Zelman was silent.

Castle heard the distinct sound of heels clicking on concrete behind him and he glanced over his shoulder to see Kate approaching from behind Esposito. Still determined, Castle pulled out the second photo he had: the DMV photo of Sophie Turner. "Mr. Zelman, do you recognize this woman?"

Zelman eyed the photo briefly, but then turned his attention on Kate. He stared at her intently almost as though he was staring through her eyes directly into her brain in an attempt to read her mind. Unnerved, she swallowed hard and averted her gaze to Castle, who appeared just as stoic as ever.

"Do you recognize her, Mr. Zelman? Have you ever seen her before?"

Zelman turned his eyes slowly back to Castle. "Are you going to arrest me?"

"No," Castle replied. "We're just talking."

"Then I have nothing more to say," Zelman told him. With that, he stepped back up onto his forklift and drove off towards the opposite end of the warehouse.

"So much for spooking him," Esposito said once they returned to their vehicles. "That guy was cool as a cucumber—son of a bitch."

"Is that it?" Kate asked. "Is that all we can do?"

"We can look for more witnesses," Castle told her. "None of the employees at The Baker's Bean recognized Zelman as being there that day, but that's probably because he didn't buy anything. Someone had to have seen him there."

"And if we can prove it's him in the surveillance picture?" she asked.

"We're still nowhere," Esposito said, resting his hands on the hood of his car. "Damn I wish he would have run."

"We're working on it, Kate, I promise." Castle told her. "Hopefully we'll be able to speak with Sophie soon. In the meantime, I want you two to stay here," he told Esposito and Ryan. "I want to know where Zelman goes when he gets off work. Just…be subtle about it."

"You got it," Ryan said.

"Subtle is my middle name," Esposito added.

* * *

Five days later, they'd made little progress. Despite several attempt to canvass The Baker's Bean, none of the patrons they asked recognized Zelman from the day of the surveillance video. Sophie Tuner had woken up, but she was unable to ID her attacker. She told them she felt someone grab her from behind and the next thing she knew she was waking up in the hospital; she hadn't seen anything. Esposito and Ryan's tail of Zelman hadn't turned up anything either; each day after work he went directly to his apartment and didn't speak with anyone on the way there.

Castle could feel the frustration radiating of Kate every time they talked about the case. He was frustrated too, of course, but he was unfortunately a bit more used to dealing with stubborn cases. He knew if they waited they would be rewarded with concrete evidence; it was just a matter of time. Meanwhile, he decided that in her case, distraction was the best plan.

"Hey so listen," he began on Wednesday evening at her apartment. They had just finished dinner and she was putting away the leftovers. "I don't know if you have any plans Saturday night, but I was thinking we could go to Ryan's Christmas party."

"Ryan's Christmas party?" she repeated.

"Yeah, every year he and his wife have this huge bash. It's actually really fun; you'd like it."

She put the last Tupperware container into the fridge and walked over to him. "You want me to go with you?"

"Well yeah," he said with a slight chuckle. "I thought it'd be nice to bring my girlfriend with me." So they'd only been seeing each other—okay, sleeping together—a few weeks, but it had been almost five months since they met. They spent almost every evening together and even some days if they were working the Zelman case. Maybe it was a little too soon to be throwing around the girlfriend word, but he didn't think so. Then again, judging by the expression on her face, maybe he was wrong.

She sighed and folded her arms over her chest. "Look, Rick, I apologize if I mislead you in some way."

Her use of his first name struck him almost more than her words did. "Mislead me?"

"Yeah, I mean…I…I'm not looking for a relationship."

"What?" he responded, his confusion growing. "Why not? Is there someone else?" Okay, so he hadn't thought of that possibility, but he didn't think he needed to given just how much time they were spending together.

"No," she said quickly. "I just…I don't really do that."

"Do what?"

"Relationships."

He took a step towards her and his brow furrowed. "What do you mean you don't do relationships? Everyone does relationships."

"I don't," she told him, turning and walking towards the couch.

"You have to," he said, following her.

She whipped around. "Except I don't."

"Why?"

"Because I just don't, okay! I just though…you know, we were having some fun, but if you want something more, then…then maybe we should stop."

He let out a breathy laugh from pure shock. "You're not serious."

"Of course I am," she told him, standing firm with her arms over her chest.

"No, Kate," he said as he walked towards her, softening his tone. "You cannot be serious."

"Why not?"

"Because that's ridiculous! Who doesn't have relationships? Everyone has relationships! Except…ah, I see. Yes, maybe this does make sense," he added, stroking his chin.

"What?"

"You. This. Your books."

"My books?!" she squeaked out, wondering what the hell they had to do with anything.

He walked over so that he stood barely six inches from her and leaned in, lowering his voice. "You write fantasy novels about superficial relationships based on unrealistic sex. There's nothing real there, Kate; nothing to hold on to. It all goes back to the same reason—your fear of rejection, your fear of being hurt. You don't write real fiction because you don't want to be hurt. You refuse to have a real relationship because if you put yourself out there you could get hurt. And right now what you feeling is the start of a real relationship."

She flattened her lips together and tightened her brow, backing three steps from him. "You don't know a damn thing about me, Castle, so why don't you just shut the hell up."

"Oh, you're right, Kate. I don't know anything about being hurt. It's not like I had to watch my marriage fall apart or my father die when I was twelve. Bad shit happens, Kate, and you have to deal with it. You can't hide away. What kind of life is that?" he challenged.

"Get out," she spat at him.

He approached and extended his arm towards her. "Kate."

"Get out!" she said, twisting out of his grasp and walking around to the other side of the couch. When he didn't move, she pointed towards the exit. "I said get out. Right now! Go!"

Giving her a terse nod, Castle turned, grabbed his coat, and walked out the door without looking back.


	17. Chapter 17

**Seventeen**

Five days. It had been five days since he saw her. He'd woken up, gone to work, made his way through the day, but nothing seemed right anymore. Something was wrong; something was missing.

On one hand, he was furious. She was being utterly ridiculous. How in the world could she go through her life without relationships? That was against human nature! She was scared and he understood that. Heck, he was scared too.

He wouldn't deny the fact that his relationships in the years since his divorce had been lacking. He had plenty of fun with more than a few women knowing there was no future in it and that was fine for him. But, for the first time since Meredith he'd found something he wanted to hold on to, something he wanted to work at. He'd been sure she felt the same. After all, it was her who initiated their first kiss and their first night of passion. If it was all about a onetime get-it-out-of-your-system conquest it wouldn't have kept going. It wouldn't have turned in to dinners and movies and snuggling under blankets in her apartment.

On the other hand, what she had said and done hurt him. Not only that, it insulted him. He was a detective and thus trained to tell when a person was lying. He knew the signs and she was practically a billboard the night she threw him out of her apartment. She was lying when she said she just wanted a causal thing that he knew for certain.

As much as the insulted side of him wanted to go back and fight it out in round two, he knew better. She was a closed off person, that much was obvious. She needed time to cool off before the next time and that next time would need to be a much softer approach. He meant to call her over the weekend, but the homicide of a woman and her child rolled through his precinct and took up the majority of his time. Fortunately, that was a killer they were able to find.

Shortly before noon on Monday, Castle was at his desk contemplating what that day's lunch would be when Esposito, Ryan and Captain Brown approached his desk, all three of them stone-faced. "Somebody die?" he asked with a laugh.

"Kate's been kidnapped," Esposito told him with complete lack of tact or subtly.

Castle shot to his feet immediately. "She-wha-what?! Kate?!"

"About an hour ago, 911 received several phone calls about a woman being taken hostage near 18th and 3rd. The kidnapper shoved her in to the back of a car and drove off. When uniforms got there, they found the woman's purse was left behind. It had Kate's press badge and her driver's license in it," the captain explained to him.

Castle's mind spun as he paced around his desk, running his hands over his face. "It's him right? It's gotta be him. Zelman."

"We don't know that," Captain Brown cautioned him. "Do you know if she was working on any other stories right now? Could it be connected to those?"

"NO! No…I don't…I don't…" He stammered as he stretched his mind back to the evenings they'd been spending together. "She…she was just working on her next book…"

The captain took a deep breath and stepped closer to Castle. "Rodgers, look, the boys told me…they told me you'd been spending a lot of time with her—at her apartment. I know this is hard but is there anything-"

"No, no!" he said quickly, walking away. "This has to be Zelman. I need…I need to see the scene."

The captain sent Ryan and Esposito after Castle. Five minutes later, they were speeding towards eighteenth, sirens blaring. Castle ditched his cruiser haphazardly at the side of the road, front left tire up on the sidewalk. Ryan and Esposito pulled in beside him, directing him a quarter of the way down the block where a uniformed officer stood waiting for them. It wasn't until Castle arrived that he realized exactly where they were.

"Damn it, Kate," he sighed as he stood beside the yellow police took and looked directly across the street at The Baker's Bean. "What were you doing?"

Though his breath came out in clouds, Castle did not even notice the cold. His fury and terror were enough to keep him warm. Out of instinct, he crammed his gloveless hands into his coat pocket before turning to the uniformed officer and asking, "What happened?"

"We have one witness that said she heard what she described as a horrible scream and looked up to see a woman being thrown into the back of a car and the car speeding off down the street. Several other witness statements corroborate this," he informed Castle.

"So far we haven't really talked with anyone who saw what Kate was doing before the guy got to her," Esposito told him. Then he passed over Kate's brown leather bag. "Found this on the ground. No cell phone in it, though."

"Yeah, she keeps that in her pocket," he answered reflexively, taking the bag. Suddenly, his head snapped up as he looked at Esposito. "Her pocket! We could-"

Esposito held up his hand. "Tech is already trying to track her phone."

Castle nodded and turned back to the purse. He opened it and found everything he knew to be quintessentially Kate. When it came to her bag, he knew she was a minimalist, but she still had the essentials: wallet, press badge, hand sanitizer, a compact mirror, lip balm, a nail file, a note pad, a pen, and some spare cash in a side pocket. There was nothing to indicate what she was doing there, not that he couldn't already guess.

With a sigh, Castle let the hand holding the bag drop down at his side as he surveyed the street. He actually scanned past it twice before he realized what was just a few feet away on their side of the sidewalk. "Jesus! An ATM! We can-"

"Already requested the video footage," Esposito told him. "This isn't my first rodeo, Bro."

Castle gave him a terse but appreciative nod before walking towards the other side of the ATM and looking down the opposite side of the street. Had he been waiting for her? Or had he merely followed her there? "Did you speak to the people at The Baker's Bean? Had she been inside the shop?"

"No, we didn't get to that. Why don't you…" Esposito let his voice drift off as he watched Castle sprint across the street, dodging cabs as he did so.

Unfortunately, no one at the coffee shop remembered Kate coming in that morning, so that was a dead end, but by the time Castle was done questioning all the staff, the ATM camera footage had arrived at the precinct, so back to the Twelfth he went.

"Bad news, Bro," Esposito said when he arrived. "Tech couldn't trace her phone. It's either off or its been ditched somewhere."

"Well then let's hope there's something on the ATM camera we can use," Castle said before entering the tech viewing room. "How'd you get this so fast anyway?"

"Let's just say when we find her, your girl's gonna owe me for all the strings I pulled to make this happen," Esposito said.

"I thought you didn't like her?" Ryan asked.

Esposito shrugged. "She's growing on me."

"Can we just watch the tape?!" Castle asked impatiently.

The footage began at ten thirty that morning, approximately ten minutes before the 911 calls began. The camera showed a typical busy New York City sidewalk scene: people walking and taxis driving by on the streets; nothing out of the ordinary.

At 10:39 according to the timestamp, Kate walked into view. She was walking slowly her head turned in the direction of the street. She made it about halfway into the camera's scope when she rotated her body out towards the street. Almost simultaneously, a man came up from behind her, grabbed her arm and elbowed her in the face. She crumpled and the man grabbed her around the waist, looked around, walked over to the car parked directly in front of the camera's view range and tossed her in the back seat before speeding off.

"Jesus," Ryan said as they watched the scene unfold.

"Run it back," Castle said. "I want to watch it again."

"Can you slow it down this time?" Esposito added.

The tech did as they asked and made the video run at half speed. At that rate, it was easy to see that just as the man grabbed her arm, Kate screamed. The subsequent blow to her head obviously silenced her.

"Wait stop," Esposito said at the point in the video where the kidnapper was looking around the street. Just before he approached the car he looked directly behind him—directly at the ATM camera. "Son of a bitch," Esposito sighed at the face of Anthony Zelman.

"Why go to all that effort to be careful for six murders only to do this in broad daylight? In front of an ATM camera, no less," Ryan asked. "It's like…it's almost like he wanted us to see him."

"No," Castle concluded. "He wanted _me_ to see him. The game has changed."

Castle turned to face his colleagues before continuing. "It must have been…it must have been after we questioned him. He must have realized after we didn't come back and arrest him that we had nothing on him and he thought he was invincible. He must have followed me…or her…or me and realized I was with her…and now he wants me to know that he has her and that there's nothing I can do about it."

"So," Esposito began, "what _are_ you going to do about it?"

Castle looked at him, fury in his eyes. "I'm going to find that son of a bitch and I'm going to put him in the ground."


	18. Chapter 18

**Eighteen**

With the ATM camera footage, getting a warrant to search Zelman's residence was no problem. An hour later, dressed in full tactical gear, Castle and his team were standing in the hallway of Zelman's apartment building waiting for the SWAT team to break in. Did Castle believe Zelman was hiding Kate in his apartment? Of course not. He was far too smart for that, but they had to start somewhere.

Once the SWAT leader gave him the all-clear, Castle, Ryan and Esposito filed in to the apartment. "Open every drawer, look in every closet. There's got to be a clue here somewhere," Castle told them.

At first glance, the bachelor pad was alarmingly well-kept. The floor was clean as were the kitchen counters. The coat closet was neatly organized with shoes lined up on a shoe rack on the floor. There was even a pot of flowers on the middle of the kitchen table, though, upon close inspection, Castle discovered them to be fake.

Ryan and Esposito took the bedroom while Castle searched through the main room of the apartment. The combination kitchen-sitting room was sparse at best. The refrigerator had only a few bottles of water and a few cans of Bud Light in it. The cabinets had a box of cereal, some rice and crackers and exactly two bowls, two plates and two drinking glasses.

In the sitting room there was a worn, sagging couch, a coffee table and an old-fashioned tube television. There was a table along one wall that could have been used as a desk, but Castle saw no signs of a computer since it was lacking power cords and internet wires. The only part of the apartment that showed signs of life was a bookcase beside the television practically spilling over with books on art from around the globe.

As he was examining the titles, Castle heard Esposito call from the bedroom, "Yo Castle; you're gonna wanna take a look at this."

Castle entered the bedroom and looked around. At first glance, this room was just like the other: barely lived in. The bed was made. There was a lamp and a clock on the nightstand and a dresser in the corner but nothing more. Esposito stood in the doorway to the bathroom, gesturing that Castle needed to take a look inside.

Like the rest of the rooms, the bathroom appeared hardly used. The toilet seat was up; there was a bar of soap sitting on the edge of the tub, and a single toothbrush lying on the side of the sink. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until Castle looked at the wall above the sink.

Where a mirror should have been, there was instead a sheet of regular sized white copy paper. Drawn on it in black charcoal pencil was the face of a woman. From looking at it, Castle knew immediately that the artist—presumably Zelman—was very talented because he recognized the identity of the woman in the picture at first glance.

Kate's face was drawn in almost exact detail, right down to the little mole beneath her left eye. All the work was done in the charcoal pencil, but an odd maroon color stained the part of the picture that would have been Kate's neck. Castle squinted his eyes and leaned in closer. "Is that…"

"Blood," Esposito said for him. Castle's head snapped in the direction of Esposito, his expression displaying the sick horror he felt in his gut. Esposito shook his head hopelessly. "Your guess is as good as mine, Bro."

"Detective Rodgers?" one of the uniformed officers called out.

Castle hurried back into the main room of the apartment to see the uniform holding out a small GPS navigation device. "Found this under the couch," he said.

Castle immediately tried to turn the device on, but nothing happened when he pressed the power button. Cursing under his breath, he looked up at the officer in front of him. "Get this to tech right away and see what they can get off it. Oh, and make sure forensics analyzes the drawing in the bathroom—I want to know whose blood that is!" he added, praying that it wasn't Kate's.

* * *

Castle couldn't sit. He paced around his desk so much he was expecting the floor to start to wear through at any moment. He just couldn't stand it: the waiting. He was familiar with waiting—vividly familiar, actually—and for the most part he could take it. It was part of the job. As much as you wanted to snap your fingers and have a suspect appear, it wasn't possible. Nor was it possible to have an upbeat musical montage while you waited like those shows on television. No, in reality it was just never-ending silence mixed in with his thoughts scanning through every worst case scenario he'd ever seen in his fourteen years on the force.

When he saw Esposito walk in to the squad room, Castle all but pounced on him. "Did they get the GPS on yet? Do they have it working?"

"Not, yet," he said, "but tech was able to identify the car in the ATM surveillance as an early-ninety's Oldsmobile Cutlass. Couldn't get a plate, but that's a pretty unusual car—we have all uninforms on the lookout for it."

"The car wasn't registered to Zelman?" Castle asked.

"No. Zelman doesn't currently have a vehicle registered in his name," Esposito explained.

"Well how many Cutlasses would still be registered in the state?" Castle asked.

"We're checking into it; don't worry."

Don't worry. Don't worry! Of course not. Why would he worry? It wasn't as though at that very moment Kate could be…no, he wouldn't let himself think it.

* * *

Castle was still pacing the squad room well past the five o'clock hour. One of the female assistants in the department had brought him some food, but he couldn't even think about chewing at that moment. His stomach was in knots and the scenarios spinning through his mind were making him dizzy.

Finally, Esposito announced that the GPS device had been analyzed and the tech team found that the same address in Hell's Kitchen had been entered into the device several times in the prior weeks. "We ran the address down and it's actually a foreclosed property that hasn't been lived in for almost a year."

"That is! That has to be it!" Castle said, practically shouting.

Esposito nodded. "We're assembling a team now."

By the time they were on the roads, sleet was beginning to fall, making the evening seem even darker. Thought the temperature had dropped to a brisk thirty-four, Castle felt only fire burning through every inch of his skin. This was it; he was bringing in his suspect dead or alive.

They met units from the local precinct a block away from their destination to organize their attack. Since they knew the suspect had a hostage, they were not going to go in guns-blazing. Instead, they were sending in a tactical surveillance team complete with infrared cameras to scope out the situation.

Castle, Ryan and Esposito huddled together under the makeshift tent to watch the closed caption video feed from the helmet cameras of the SWAT officers. Castle saw the abandoned row home come in to view and he felt his breath begin to quicken. _Just a little longer Kate_, he thought to himself. _Hold on just a little longer_.

Through the communication system Castle heard the SWAT officer say that they found no heat signatures in the building, but that their equipment would not show anyone down in the basement. "Alright, men, pull back," the SWAT leader told his men. Then he turned to Castle. "We'll need a different approach; we can't go in there blind."

Refusing to accept defeat, Castle asked, "Can we just get a little closer?"

"That's risky. I-"

"Just my unit?" he asked, gesturing towards his unmarked car.

"Not yet. I don't want to chance spooking him," the SWAT leader said.

Frustrated, Castle walked out into the sleet, not even caring that he was getting wet. Close, they were so close, but yet so far. He walked to the end of the block and looked down the street towards the foreclosed home. He stood there for several minutes thinking of Kate when a house halfway down the block caught his eye. It, too, was abandoned like many others on that block only that house had boarded up doors and windows. Through the cracks in the boards on the second floor, Castle thought he saw light. Squinting his eyes, he walked a few steps closer and realized that yes, there was light on the second floor.

His mind began to spin again. It was too easy—it had all been too easy. Zelman looking at the camera. The GPS unit underneath the couch being literally the _only_ piece of useful evidence in that apartment. What if they found it for a reason? What if the foreclosed house was a red herring? A distraction. But Zelman would want to be close; he'd want to see the police fail, because otherwise it wasn't a game.

"Yo Castle," Esposito broke his concentration. "We're gonna get this SOB I-"

"Look at that house—five down on the left," Castle told him. "Do you see the light? In the second story window?"

Esposito looked at the house and then back at his colleague. "You don't think…We don't have a warrant for that house, man," he said grounding. "We have no idea what's in there. It could just be a homeless person."

"Or it could be Zelman," Castle countered. Esposito looked at him. "We're talking about her life, Javier. _Her life_."

"Damn it," Esposito groaned. "I knew that woman was gonna cause me trouble."

Castle gave him an expression of gratitude before tip-toeing his way across the street. By the time he reached the other sidewalk, he noticed that Esposito and Ryan were trailing him. "Let's go in from the back," he told them quietly.

They nodded and followed him, drawing their guns as they entered the alley behind the rows of houses. They made their way along, hugging the fences as they went. Though it was still in the middle of the evening, no one was around which was an attest to just how many of the homes were abandoned. Even if there were residents, the poor weather kept them indoors.

When they reached the home with the boarded up windows, they found a gold Oldsmobile Cutlass parked out back. Ryan shined his flashlight in the windows, but they found no evidence inside. "We should call for backup," he said to them.

"I'm going in," Castle told them.

Ryan gave him a look. "No, we need to wait."

"For what?" Castle hissed. "SWAT to go busting through the door? He'll kill her."

Steadfast, Ryan insisted. "I'm going for backup." And then hurried back down the alley.

Castle turned to Esposito. "I got your six, Bro," he said. Castle nodded, took a deep breath and then slowly approached the house.


	19. Chapter 19

**Nineteen**

Castle climbed the three steps up to the back entrance of the house, paused, and listened. The sleet was beginning to lessen, though the clicks of ice balls could still be heard against the side of the house. Slowly, Castle reached out his hand and tested the backdoor knob; it was unlocked.

As gently as he could manage, Castle turned the handle on the door and pushed on it, his heart in his throat as he waited for it to creak, but it never did. He did not enter the home, but instead surveyed what he could see from his position on the stoop. Much to his disadvantage, the first floor of the home appeared mostly dark. If Zelman was waiting for them in a dark corner with a gun, they were completely screwed. He could only hope that they had the element of surprise on their side. Castle gestured for Esposito to follow him and entered the home.

They walked into the kitchen, which was a bit of a stretch of the term given the dilapidated state of the house. There was no refrigerator or stove. The majority of the cabinet doors were missing or hanging on only one hinge. The table was tipped over and broken in half and the sink was filled with a murky brown sludge.

After clearing the kitchen, they moved towards the front of the spider web-encrusted home. In the front room they found the wallpaper torn from most of the walls, the chandelier on the floor, and a few broken chairs. When they reached the front door, Castle held up a closed fist, indicating that he and Esposito were stopping their progress.

Castle listened closely, which was difficult to do over the loud hammering of his own heart. He could hear a creaking above them which fit with what he'd seen from the street. If someone was in the house then they were in the front of the second floor. Though he wanted to charge up the stairs, his brain was just barely clear enough to remember his tactical training—they needed to clear the rest of the first floor first.

Castle crept across the hallway to the other side of the home, which was even darker, if that was possible. That side had a large, open space with more broken furniture and, if he was not mistaken, a stained mattress laid out on the floor. He cleared the room and the powder room under the stairs before returning to the foyer with Esposito behind him.

Cautiously, Castle approached the stairs. He wished that the stairs were up against a wall rather than in the center of the home. That would have at least given them some cover, but they had no choice but to continue onward; Kate was waiting for them.

He lowered his gun momentarily as he shined the flashlight on the bottom step, lifted up his foot and placed it gently on the far right side of the first stair. He lowered his bodyweight slowly onto his left foot testing for stability and hoping for a lack of creaking. With the first stair approved, he lifted his right foot up and did the same action with the second stair. Once this was done, he gestured for Esposito to follow him.

The two men ascended the stairs at an agonizing pace, but succeeded in making it halfway to the top without any creaks. Once again, Castle held up his closed fist and listened. He strained his ears to the point where he thought they might fall right off his head, but he heard nothing useful, so he continued his ascent.

Once he passed the halfway point he began to assess the second floor. The hallway seemed as dark as the downstairs had been with the exception of a very faint glow emanating from the first door at the top of the stairs. Castle believed that if he could reach the top step he would be able to extend his torso far enough forward that he could look into the room without actually having to stand in the second floor hall and risk more noise.

At the second to last step he paused and placed one knee down on the landing. Using his fingers against the wall, he slid his torso forward so that his body was just a few inches above the ground. He inched closer and closer until he was just barely able to see around the doorframe.

In the center of the room he saw Kate seated on a chair, her chin dropped against her chest, her hair dangling limply around her. He stretched even further forward to see a large flashlight sitting on the ground several feet in front of her, the beam pointing up towards the ceiling offering the only light in the room. From his position he could just barely glimpse Zelman standing in front of the window, no doubt observing the police on their attempt to breach the wrong house.

Just as Castle was about to formulate his next plan, he heard a loud creak from behind him. He shut his eyes and shook his head, silently cursing Esposito. He heard an almost inaudible f-bomb drop behind him just as Zelman whipped around.

Castle pulled his torso back and flattened himself against the wall. He raised up his gun and trained it on the doorway incase Zelman came out into the hallway. The sound of footsteps could be heard in the adjoining room along with a soft muttering.

"Someone's here? Is someone here? Someone's in the house. In the house. How could they be in the house?"

After a moment, he heard a muffled scream from Kate and his heart skipped a beat in his chest. They needed to end this—now. He reached down and grabbed Esposito's shoulder and held out three fingers in front of them. Slowly, he lowered one finger at a time, counting down to their strike. When he lowered the final finger, they both jumped into the doorway, guns drawn.

"Step away from her Zelman," Castle announced. Zelman stood just beside Kate. At the sound of Castle's voice, both his and Kate's head whipped in the direction of the doorframe. When Zelman saw the intruders, he grabbed Kate by the hair and hoisted her up out of her chair. He pressed something against her neck and she screamed again, though it was muffled from the duct tape over her mouth.

"Let her go, Zelman," Castle said as he calmly stepped in the room. Esposito followed him and walked around to the front of the room so they had their guns trained on Zelman from two sides.

Zelman continued to mutter as he backed away from them, the knife at Kate's throat glinting from the flashlight beam.

"You don't want to do this, Zelman. It's over," Castle told him. "Just let her go."

"NO!" Zelman said loudly, his voice echoing off the plaster ceiling. Using his grip on her hair he jerked Kate's head back even further, pressing the knife blade right beneath her jaw.

Castle swallowed to fight back the bile rising in his throat. The room was too dark for him to be able to see Kate's face, but he could hear her breath coming in quick short bursts. She was completely at Zelman's mercy; her hands and feet were bound with duct tape and he was supporting most of her weight with his grip on her hair.

"Just take it easy, Anthony," Castle said, fighting as hard as he could to maintain an even voice. "Nobody needs to get hurt."

Zelman had backed himself up against the back wall of the room and he let out an incoherent shriek. "Back off! Get back! Or I'll make her bleed."

"Okay, okay," Castle said, making a production to take two steps back, placing him almost at the entrance of the room. He looked to Esposito and nodded for him to do the same. Due to his position, Esposito backed himself nearly up against the opposite wall. As his left foot landed, a loud crack was heard and half a second later, his foot crashed through the floor flattening him into a crumpled pile. The jolt sent his gun clattering to the floor, where it landed a few feet from him, just out of reach.

"Holy shit!" he proclaimed from his position.

"You okay Espo?" Castle called, keeping his eyes trained on Zelman, who seemed equally shocked by what had happened.

"I think but…shit! I'm fuckin' stuck!" he announced.

Castle allowed his eyes to dart towards Esposito for just a moment and he saw that he was indeed trapped with his leg partway through the floor. Shaking his head slightly, he turned back to Zelman; it was just the two of them now.

"C'mon Zelman," he continued. "You don't want to do this; you don't want to hurt anyone else."

"I always want to hurt people," he replied as he pressed the knife deeper into Kate's neck.

Castle saw a dark droplet form against the pale skin of her neck and shouted, "NO!"

"Drop your gun," Zelman told him.

"Okay, okay," Castle said, turning his palms to face Zelman. He lowered his weapon to the ground and stood back up, hands still in a defensive position.

"Away," Zelman insisted.

Reluctantly, Castle gave the gun a kick and it slid out of reach across the floor. "Okay, now I'm unarmed. We can just talk about this, right? We can have a little chat."

Zelman laughed a maniacal, blood-curdling cackle. "I don't like to talk," he insisted before pressing the knife down and dragging it across Kate's throat.

"NO!" Castle shouted, dropping to the ground and pulling his spare pistol out of his ankle holster. He expertly fired two rounds directly into Zelman's skull. Zelman fell back against the wall and slowly slid towards the floor. Before he even reached it, Castle crossed the room and pressed both his hands against Kate's throat. "You're okay," he told her as he lowered her gently to the ground. "You're going to be okay."

He momentarily lifted one of his hands to rip the duct tape from her mouth and allow her to breathe easier. When he saw his trembling palm was covered in crimson, he shot the second hand back down against her neck. "You're going to be okay, Kate," he told her, staring directly at her eyes, which were steadily filling with tears. "Just hang on, Kate. You're going to be okay. I promise. I promise."


	20. Chapter 20

**Twenty**

Richard "Castle" Rodgers shoved his hands down into his jacket pocket as he walked. As he stepped around the gravestones, he left a trail of footprints in the white fluff topping the grass. Though it had snowed the night before, the temperature had risen to a balmy forty-one on that Christmas Eve. As he neared his final destination a few headstones away, his feet felt heavier, the reluctance to proceed weighing him down. This was not at all how he pictured spending his holiday.

Two weeks earlier on a dreary, frigid evening, he'd finally brought the Nail Polish Killer—or so the press was calling him—to justice. They discovered the house Zelman had bunkered down in belonged to his paternal grandfather. Zelman never took his father's last name, which was why the property did not come up in their search of his history. Zelman's grandfather had died several years earlier and, with the house fully paid off, there was no reason for Zelman to sell the home, especially since it held his treasures.

In one of the second floor rooms in the home, the detectives had found a large wooden chest. Inside it were dozens of gruesome drawings of women dying, bleeding, and sliced open in various ways. They also found the personal belongings of Zelman's victims. Purses, wallets, engagement rings. Among them was the wallet of Jim Beckett, confirming their suspicion that Zelman had killed him on the same night as his second female victim, Melody Timbers.

For Castle, the discovery was bitter sweet. Yes, Zelman was dead, so no other women would be harmed at his hand, but it had still taken them much longer to solve the case than anyone would have wanted. Six lives had been lost and two more had been changed forever.

When Castle arrived at his destination, he stood beside a woman bundled in a black coat, green scarf bunched up around her neck, hiding the angry red scar that marred the skin just below her jawline. Castle took a deep breath and looked down at the pair of gravestones before her.

_Johanna Beckett b. September 22, 1958 d. March 12, 1995_

_James Beckett b. August 1, 1955 d. May 15, 2003 _

Though he dealt with death every day, cemeteries were not something Castle was comfortable with. In fact, the only day Castle visited his father's gravesite was on the day of the funeral. He knew that some people believed that they needed to visit a gravesite in order to speak with the person who had passed. Kate was among those people and he was certainly not going to chastise her for that opinion, he merely disagreed with it.

He believed that if a person wished to speak to a deceased loved one, they could do it from any place in the world at any time. The gravestone was not, as he once put it, a cosmic telephone, communicating with those in the great beyond; it was merely a symbol people were used to having.

After a moment she crouched down and brushed the snow off each stone with her gloved hand. She laid a handful of flowers in front of each of the markers and then rested one of her hands on each of her parent's names and crouched there with her head hanging for several minutes before she began to speak quietly.

"Merry Christmas Mom and Dad. I'm sorry I haven't been to see you in a while, but there's someone here I want you to meet: my boyfriend, Rick," she said, glancing back over her shoulder at him. He offered her a slight smile.

Kate turned back to the gravestones and continued. "We've been working together for a while now. He helped me find Dad's killer. I wouldn't have even known to look if it hadn't been for him, but we got him and he won't be able to hurt anyone ever again."

She paused to brush a tear from her left eye with her knuckle. "I wish you guys could be here to meet Rick. You would like him. He's smart and funny and sweet…and most of all, he's been a really good friend."

With that, she stood and took a step back. She turned to Castle and slid her arms around his body, tucking her head beneath his chin. He wrapped his arms around her back and dropped a kiss on to the crown of her head.

"I'm sorry, Rick," she told him quietly. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he told her quietly, kissing her head once more. They'd already made amends in the hospital after she'd woken up from her surgery. She'd been very lucky, the doctor told him; the damage had been minimal. Castle knew this to be true. He knew that Zelman was forced to use a smaller, duller weapon after dropping his main murder weapon at the last crime scene. Castle was certain if Zelman had his original weapon with him that night in the abandoned house, he would not have been holding Kate in his arms at that moment.

"No really," she said, pulling back and looking up at him. "I was scared and stupid and I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," he smiled. "Now we really need to get going—my mother won't like it if we're late for the Christmas Eve festivities."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "And just what are all these festivities?"

"Uh-uh," he shook his head. "No way I'm running the surprise. You'll just have to see the bizarre Rodgers-Feinman Christmas-Hanukah hybrid celebration for yourself."

"Can't wait," she told him with a grin. Then, she stood up on her toes and kissed him before tucking her face into his neck for one more hug. As he embraced her, he looked down over her back at the gravestones silently promising, _Don't worry; I'll keep her safe_.

When she pulled out of his embrace, she grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers through his, and led the way back towards the main path through the cemetery. "Hey Rick?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks again for saving my life."

He looked down at her and smiled. "Always."

-Fin-

* * *

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading everyone!**


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